Life Aboard the Halberd
by Wisecrack Idiots
Summary: So what happened to everybody after the credits rolled? Tabuu's dead, and now everybody's best friends and they don't won't to be separated. Where are they all going to stay? Why, on Meta Knight's ship, of course! Full description inside. CRACK.
1. Moving Day

This is how our story begins: after Tabuu was defeated, the _Brawl_ characters (minus former villains Bowser, Wario, Dedede and Ganon) needed a place to crash since they no longer served a purpose due to Masahiro Sakurai's lack of preparation skills for after-story mode things. Thus, they turned to Meta Knight, the only person who actually owned a ship big enough for all of them and all other hell-spawn only they could come up with.

At first, Meta Knight didn't like the idea. He threatened them with disembowelment, medieval torture, food poisoning; but nothing made any difference, as _Brawl_ characters didn't fear any of these things. Or anything, for that matter. Especially Link, 'cause he had the Triforce of Courage. So after many injuries, violent disagreements, and the continuous threat of being thrown off the Halberd while it was in flight, the Star Warrior relented.

The aftermath of the gaming commenced: they all got to live there and party like it was 1999.

The End

Well, no, not really. There's still all the many wonderful tales we have to share about their less-than-tolerant attitudes toward each other and all the beautiful chaos that'll make you crack up and pee yourself. Thus, a fanfiction:

**Life Aboard the Halberd**  
BRAWL STYLE

* * *

Everybody was sitting quietly around a long, narrow table that seated thirty-five. It was close to the front of the ship where an unlikely trio first found all the Mr. Game and Watches in Subspace during game play piloting said ship. They were all carrying various things: suit cases, personal possessions, and (in the case of the Kongs) a whole pile of bananas as high as the ceiling. (Yes, it was the load the Koopas had tried to steal before Bowser went up the wall with his magical blaster.)

They were all looking impatient, as if waiting for something. Fox was tapping his blaster on the table in a bored sort of way. Kirby was eyeing Olimar's Pikmin with rapt hunger and beady eyes, trying to imagine how they might taste in a cooking pot. Meanwhile, Marth and Link were comparing the sizes of their swords and debating whose was bigger. Lucario was looking depressed, occasionally bouncing aura spheres off the metal walls like a tennis ball. Similar to Marth and Ike's conversation, Mario and Luigi were arguing over which was better: FLUDD or the Poltergust 3000. Sonic was shifting restlessly in his seat, twirling a kitchen knife between his fingers in Snake's direction; Snake, incidentally, was talking enthusiastically to Peach.

"...and then I killed _that_ Greap and then—hey, watch it!" Snake yelped, ducking under the table in the nick of time; where his head had been a second before the kitchen knife trembled ominously in the wall.

Sonic grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," he apologized quickly. "I just don't like being pent up like this..."

Mario was eyeing FLUDD longingly, as if desperate for something to break the monotony. "Who does?"

Meanwhile, Pit was banging his head on the table, leaving a large dent where his head made contact every time. "Dying—of—boredom..."

The Pokémon Trainer (who the authors of this story decided to dub "Ash") sighed. "How long have we been here?" he moaned in exasperation.

Samus raised her blaster to her visor and read, "Five hours and fifty-three minutes, twenty-nine seconds."

Ness, Lucas and Ash all raised curious brows. Samus shrugged.

"I had a watch installed; hey, saving the world and all it helps to know what time you're doing it at..."

Many "oh's" followed this statement.

After a few seconds of silence Ike banged his fists on the table. "Where the _hell_ is Meta Knight?" he asked loudly, causing many faces to turn in his direction.

Yoshi's stomach growled.

"That's it!" Captain Falcon yelled. "I'm going to go find that son of a—"

Zelda gave a loud cough, and Captain Falcon caught himself under her firm glare.

"...well, I'll go...just…drag him here," he finished lamely, abandoning the idea in general. After a few seconds of ringing silence the others began to chat again, many now wearing constricted expressions of hunger.

Nana and Popo had somehow managed to procure a miniature block of ice and were currently using the kitchen knives to chisel a sculpture of a rice ball out of it. They stared at it longingly before shaking their heads. Popo hesitated, then stuck out his tongue and licked it hopefully. He grimaced, tried to pull his tongue away, and found that it was frozen to the ice rice ball.

Clutching his stomach, Falco gave the two siblings a long look before asking desperately, "Please—don't—_do that_."

"Are you that desperate?" Luigi asked them incredulously, as Popo stood on his chair and tried to yank it off. "Have you no pride?"

"Are Pikachus edible?" Wolf asked no one in general, staring at the Electric Mouse Pokémon with a little too much interest. Pikachu narrowed his normally cheerful black eyes. Several sparks fell out of the vivid red outlets on his cheeks. "I was just asking!" Wolf added hastily, waving his hands. Pikachu didn't look impressed, but rather more wary of any other immediate carnivores in the room. Sadly, the tally added up to over five. Jigglypuff, it transpired, had sung herself to sleep and was now drooling on the tabletop.

The casual, bored atmosphere was broken by an ear-splitting din as Olimar screeched: "OH NO YOU DON'T, PINKY!"

Kirby had tried to eat one of his Red Pikmin while nobody was looking; the result did not go over well. It began to wail as Kirby gummed on it; the only part of it sticking out of Kirby's mouth was its flowering bulb stem. Olimar gave it a mighty yank, and it flew out of his mouth, along with five other Pikmin that Kirby had managed to swallow before anyone had cared to notice.

Panting, the space captain pointed an accusing finger at Kirby, which the Star Warrior went cross-eyed to keep it in view.

"What's wrong with you?" Oilmar burst out savagely, hugging his Pikmin protectively like a father holding his firstborn sons.

Link looked up. He jumped to Kirby's defense instantly. "Is it his fault? All the little blob knows how to do is say his own name and suck stuff up!"

"Beep!" Mr. Game and Watch said, while Ness and Lucas gave general outcries of agreement.

Toon Link rounded on his older counter-part. "So do you, but you never tried to eat a Pikmin before! Or can you tell us what they taste like?"

Link scowled and lifted the other Link up by his pointy green hat. "You wanna taste steel, kid? I heard the goblins don't like the Master Sword much... Remind me what you have again?"

"The_ Phantom Sword_," Toon Link replied hotly, "and it's made of Crimsonine, Azurine and Aquanine! It makes that cheap-o stick look like a butter knife next to the blade that conquered Bellum!"

Link scowled. "What's that, a bowel disease?"

Both drew their swords and raised them to each other's face.

"Now,_ really_!" Zelda said testily, slamming her book shut: _So You Want To Be A Ninja._ "I thought you two would get along like two peas in a pod."

"I thought I said to lay off the food talk!" Falco snapped, a nerve twitching near his temple as he pointed a wing accusingly at the Hyrulian Princess.

"You're like my mom. Worse, you're like Midna! All that little nag ever did was, well, _nag__!_" Link barked.

Toon Link, meanwhile, who struggling wildly in his counterpart's grip, spat, "You're just like Tetra! No, you _are _Tetra!" He gave an overdramatic gape. "I swear, with every single incarnation Nintendo feels the need to give me some lame sidekick to harass me. Why can't you all just stop haunting m—"

"GHOSTS!" Luigi screeched. Quick to follow the paranoia was the knee-jerk reflex: grabbing his vacuum cleaner-thing and swinging it around wildly, he yelled, "THE SHIP IS HAUNTED!"

"No, no, no!" Mario tried to counsel his younger brother. "We're not in the mansion anymore!" But it didn't work: Luigi had already switched on the vacuum, and the nozzle, with a loud _pop,_ sucked up Ash's Poké Balls which he just so happened to take out for cleaning.

"NO!" Ash cried, running around the table and making a beeline for Luigi. "Give them back! Ivysaur, Charizard, Squirtle, no!"

Before Ash could reach the Italian green-clad plumber, the nozzle swung around and made contact with Fox's face. With a loud sucking _pop_ it latched onto Fox's muzzle. Muted, Fox made a desperate attempt to claw it off. Just to bang one more nail into his coffin, his face began to morph into a spectacular blue-magenta color from oxygen deprivation.

Oh, joy.

"Throw it in reverse!" Yoshi ordered.

"I'm trying, I'm trying!" yelled Luigi as he fumbled with all the shiny and complicated buttons. He apparently hit the right one, because a second later the vacuum made a squelching noise and released Fox. However, a second later it also spat back out the Poké Balls, all smacking repeatedly Fox in the face before the great gushing wind blew back his fur so that he looked like he had a giant orange afro.

"Damn it! Look what you did! Now I have to fix it all over again!" Fox snapped, taking out a small jar from his pockets labeled "axel grease." He then dumped it all down his front, muttering vehement curses as he tried to smooth down his fur.

While many of the large group sniggered openly, Luigi switched off his vacuum not a second before Ash's Poké Balls hit the floor and opened; out came Charizard, Squirtle, and Ivysaur right on top of Oilmar's Pikmin squad. Weight and gravity did not favor the plant-people, for underneath Charizard's torso came little spirits that moaned and vanished in a clearly dead fashion.

For the second time in the past hour Olimar let out a screech: "_No!_" Angered, the space captain abruptly shoved Marth and Diddy out of the way (and this was saying something, as Olimar wasn't the typical buff) and threw a punch at Charizard.

Charizard blinked, glared down at Olimar with his great, reptilian yellow eyes, and roared. Olimar ducked down in time as a wave of flames escaped his parted jaws; many others backed against the wall to avoid being burned; Nana, who had been trying to rip the ice rice ball off of Popo's tongue, watched as it melted instantly from their proximity to the flames ("Yay!" cried the Ice Climbers); and Mr. Game and Watch, who hadn't been smart and ducked, caught on fire.

Now, you might be able to see the problem here. _Brawl_ characters aren't supposed to be locked up in a room with nothing to do and a lot of energy to be exercised. It never bodes over well. So, under the general noise and chaos, everybody grabbed their guns, blasters, swords, bows, or improvised weapons (i.e., the silverware) and proceeded to brawl as only _Brawl_ characters could.

* * *

For the first time in a few hundred years Meta Knight was humming cheerfully to a tune of his own creation. Tucked under his cape was a book he had managed to unearth in one of the Halberd's many spacious rooms. Though dusty, every rule was right down to the fine print, and he was sure everyone else would cooperate once they saw the genius of it all. With that thought in mind, he had managed to keep a cool and calm head and retain his knightly appearance and pride, unlike the rest of those hooligans. While a bit on the short end of the scale, when he wanted to the Star Warrior could give off an aura so intimidating that even Lucario would bow out to the back of the room. And intimidate he would, only as a last resort, of course.

Turning a corner, Meta Knight walked down the hallways of the ship, pressed on the slide-open door and opened his eyes.

Chaos reigned. In one corner there was a cat fight going on between Jigglypuff and Peach; both were slapping each other, even though Jigglypuff was a head shorter. Pit and Charizard seemed to be hovering above the battle, taking random swings with a sword, or (in Charizard's case) scorching everything in sight until it was a melted puddle. The table had been moved several feet—chairs littered the room turned on their side. Link and Link were dueling out blows at each other with their blades.

DK and Diddy had ganged up on Pikachu; DK was holding him by the tail while Diddy grabbed him by the ears, stretching him out like a slinky. Pikachu retaliated, zapping both so that they let him go with yelps of pain. Meta Knight jumped out of the way as Ash's Ivysaur bounded past while Olimar ran after him waving Ike's sword.

"GET BACK HERE YOU OVERGROWN WEED!"

"GIVE ME BACK MY SWORD!" Ike puffed, bounding past Meta Knight in pursuit of Olimar without a backward glance at the newcomer.

Squirtle was desperately trying to put out the fires his fellow Pokémon had created by using Water Gun; R.O.B. seemed to be on fire, and Lucario, Ness and Lucas were exchanging telepathic blows, using a variety of psychic attacks ("PK Flash!" "Aura Sphere!" both respective parties shouted).

As Meta Knight's yellow eyes scanned the battlefield that had once been his conference room he did a double-take. It took a moment to realize that the giant orange fluffball in the corner was _Fox McCloud_. He looked like a chinchilla with a bad hair day. Captain Falcon, screaming "Falcon Punch!" was making even more dents in his precious ship as he attempted to hit Sonic, who was a blue blur; finally, the hedgehog fell from Snake underneath his cardboard box. Snake in one of his least stealthy tactics stuck out his foot and tripped Sonic, causing him to crash headlong into the wall on Meta Knight's left.

Zelda seemed to be going under a split personality change as she magically morphed between her "male," undercover counterpart, Sheik. With a jaguar-like screech of fury Sheik collided into Samus, knocking her away from her opponents, the Ice Climbers. Marth kicked Ash, who was unconscious on the floor; Mario and Luigi were having a vacuum fight, using the nozzles like swords and occasionally spraying water or blowing the other away; and in the middle of this all Kirby sat on DK and Diddy's banana pile, eating away and chucking peels randomly into the fray.

Mr. Game and Watch ran past (still on fire), Wolf running after him with Falco tailing in his wake. Unfortunately, Falco slipped on a banana peel and fell on his back right in front of Meta Knight, throwing his blaster up into the air. Meta Knight caught it in his right hand and glared down at Falco, who looked up, dazed and horrified at the sight of the mask-wearing Star Warrior. Around them the temperature in the room plummeted several degrees.

Ignoring Falco's gasps of pain, Meta Knight walked directly across his ribcage into the middle of the room, evading Yoshi and Pikachu, before jumping up onto the table. He lifted the blaster, eyed it for a moment, pulled the trigger, and with a blast like a cannon shot at the roof.

Everybody froze mid-fight, except for Toon Link, who quickly kicked the older Link in the shins and whistled innocently while the older version hopped around on one foot.

Meta Knight lowered the gun, half-tempted to start blasting it and reinstate the civil warfare. His gaze traveled from Snake, who was frozen in his attempts to strangle Ike, to Diddy, who had his foot raised, about to kick Sonic, to the collective scene around him.

"Never," Meta Knight declared in a calm voice filled with chilling menace, "have I seen such disgraceful behavior. I allowed you all to stay here, and in less than two hours you decided to start World War III in my home."

"We gave you a sky-light!" Ness pointed out in a falsely optimistic voice, cowering behind Lucario who mere seconds ago he had been trying to KO. "And windows. Personally, I think you needed them, this place was really...um...dark and creepy and frightening."

Meta Knight faked a surprised look. "Oh. So I see." If looks could kill, no doubt Ness would be writhing on the floor in pain. "Well, Ness." His eyes were chips of ice. "Do _I_ frighten you?"

"_Yes!_" Ness squeaked, turning paper-white in the face.

Many of the others swapped terrified looks. Normally, they wouldn't have listened, considering Meta Knight was only as big (if a few inches taller than) Kirby. However, with a blaster in his hand no one dare said anything. The only sound in the room was (incidentally) Kirby's consistent eating of the bananas. DK and Diddy eyed him with indignant and incredulous disbelief, but under Meta Knight's baleful glare they were cowed into silence.

"Now." Meta Knight jumped off the table and took a few steps forward. "Who in their right minds started this non—_hiiirk!_"

With a wild swerve he slipped backwards on a banana peel, hitting the floor with a ringing thud. There was maybe two seconds of a pause before Pit began doubling over with laughter, crying with mirth, his eyes flooding with tears as he clutched at his chest.

With half a second to spare the angel thrust his head back, missing a violet ray from the blaster that burned a hole into the wall. His outcry stopped abruptly.

"Anyone else got a problem?" Meta Knight asked in a would-be-calm voice, Falco's blaster still aimed at Pit's head. When everybody shook their heads quickly, he pulled a chair up to the edge of the table. "Well, go on," he snapped, as everyone stared dumbly at this normal behavior. "Grab a chair—I didn't go off looking for my book for a few hours so that we could all gape here like idiots..."

"Book?" Mario whispered, taking a seat between R.O.B and Pikachu. "How long does it take to find a book?"

Pikachu shrugged. "Pika, pik, chu," Pikachu stated, shaking his head. R.O.B. blinked, and again for everyone's convenience translated: "No clue."

Yoshi exchanged a significantly dark look with Jigglypuff. "We're screwed, aren't we?"

"Jig, jiggly puff puff."

As if anyone could actually make headway with that gibberish.

Once everyone had dragged chairs to the table over the wreckage and taken a seat (Ash, still out cold, was shoved sloppily into his seat by Snake), they turned their heads toward Meta Knight. The Star Warrior occupied a chair at the head of the table. The _Brawl_ characters all gulped, all but waiting for their names to be called to the guillotine.

Meta Knight eyed them suspiciously for a moment before reaching under his cloak. Many flinched, expecting to see the deadly glint of Galaxia, his sword, but were both stunned and nonplused as he slammed a rather large foot-thick book onto the table. Dust sputtered from its pages; Fox, who had finally combed down his fur and was sitting closest to Meta Knight, began to cough violently.

"What—_hack_—is that?" he spluttered.

Meta Knight, underneath his mask, gave what was an award-winning smirk. "I'm glad you asked," he answered waspishly, holding up the book so that everyone down the table could read the cover: _Regulations and Protocols_.

Peach stared at it like it was some sort of viral disease. Apparently, in the Mushroom Kingdom it was considered a crime to be dirty. "How old is that?" To punctuate her dislike of the grime, the princess cringed.

Zelda gave a wry laugh. "Oh, I'd assume several centuries give or take. Older than dear Meta Knight here I'm sure, considering _his_ age."

It was hard to decide whether to laugh or not; Wolf had stuffed his fist in his mouth to hold back a snort, while Lucario gave a very unseemly giggle.

Meta Knight glowered. In spite of himself, all remaining ounces of pride seemed to go with the wind. "Are you implying that I'm old?" he asked grumpily.

"Well"—Zelda gave an awkward smile—"you'll find it hard to disagree with me that you're not exactly young..."

There came a muffled laugh from the back, and a voice said (Meta Knight had a shrewd idea who), "Maybe that's why he wears that mask—probably to hide all the wrinkles..."

Marth ducked as Meta Knight chucked his sword at the Lowell prince. It was a close shave. As it sunk into the wall with a clunk Marth sat up and pointed openly. "Ha, you missed!"

Meta Knight sighed, made a complicated, short gesture with his hand, and the golden thunder-bolted shaped blade unstuck itself from the wall and sailed over the top of Marth's head, shaving off the top of his hair as it sailed magically back to its owner like an obedient dog.

Marth opened his mouth, clearly about to make some rude insult, when he noticed that many people were pointing openly at his head. He blinked, unaware of what had happened. "What?"

Peach, grimacing, passed him her hand mirror. Marth let out a wail of despair as he saw that the top of his hair had been sliced off very unkemptly by about half an inch.

Without sparing him a glance Meta Knight plowed on: "Now, disregarding how old I am, if you'll all please..." He flipped open a page, and a moth flew out.

There was a brief second's pause before the moth was caught on the end of a toothpick and hit the door that led into the ship's main hallways.

"SNAKE!" Samus snapped. "Do you have to do that?"

Snake lowered the toothpicks he clutched in his right hand and muttered an apology before leaning back in his chair.

"Where did you find that?" Captain Falcon burst out.

"The basement," Meta Knight answered promptly.

"The Halberd has a basement?" Yoshi and Nana both echoed.

"Yes. It's where I...keep disobedient guests. Like Little Jimmy."

Lucas raised a hand. "Who's Little Jimmy?"

"The skeleton."

Lucas sank into his seat and whimpered. Normally, they all would have thought that Meta Knight was joking, but as Meta Knight was an emotionless bastard who _didn't_ joke they all sobered up rather quickly.

Just then, Olimar, who had been rummaging in his pockets, found what he was looking for. With his right hand stretched out he took a seed packet and began to sprinkle it around his seat like a salt circle. Oddly enough, it looked like grass seed for a lawn. For a moment Meta Knight opened his mouth, about to speak, when he clearly though better of it and went on with the whole reason they were here in the first place.

"This," Meta Knight plowed on, "is the rule book that you will all obey if you wish to live here. Otherwise, you can leave. I'm not stopping you."

He gestured to the door behind him, though nobody moved. Meta Knight, expecting this, continued on, ignoring Olimar (who had re-plucked several of his Pikmin squad). How the space captain had managed to cultivate Pikmin seeds in a metal floor in less than a minute, no one could really fathom, and certainly didn't try. "Now, let me highlight several key rules that stand above all others. One: No food or drinks inside the control room. _That means you, Peach._"

Peach, who had taken out tea and passed it around to some of the others frowned at him. "Why?"

"It wrecks all the technology kept around here if spilled on," the Star Warrior answered curtly. He waited until all of her tea seemingly vanished into thin air, as quickly as it had appeared (though not without a few muttered complaints and insults), before resuming his lecture: "Rule number two: _Don't touch that_."

Captain Falcon froze with his hand mere inches away from a large red button and quickly shuffled back into his seat.

Meta Knight, breathing heavily, gave him an annoyed look. "If you do that again I will throw you out of the Halberd's airlock myself. Captain's privilege. Rule number three—"

"Wait," Samus interjected. Elbows propped on the tabletop, she leaned forward expectantly. Without the visored helmet her gaze managed to bore into the Star Warrior's. "Why's there a big red button in the middle of the conference room? Seriously? Shouldn't that be somewhere else? Like, the Halberd's control deck? Or the battery?"

He waved off her comment with a flick of his wrist. "It's one of my contingency plans. I placed it there so it could be easily accessible during times of emergency. However"—Meta Knight paused to lock his hands together in the steeple position and return her stare—"I advise you to not press it."

"Why?" Lucas piped up.

"Pray you never find out."

His ominous words hanging in the air, no one decided to press the matter.

Returning to the third order of business, Meta Knight made a weary-sounding noise: "Rule number three—"

At that moment the ship jerked slightly; Ash toppled out of his chair, still snoring, and resurfaced from underneath the table a moment later, rubbing his eyes. "Hey, where's the explosion...?"

DK gave Meta Knight a nervous look. "Are we supposed to be moving?"

"Does the ship have an auto-pilot?" Diddy chipped in.

Meta Knight didn't answer immediately. Still holding his book, he whisked his cloak around him and reappeared in the shuttle that led up to the control pit of the Halberd. "Stay," he ordered, before the lift cluttered to life and took him up out of sight into the control room.

They didn't have to wait very long to find out what happened: With an ear-splitting scream Meta Knight's voice rang down the empty lift: "OLIMAR!"

Baffled, heads turned to stare at the captain, who merely shrugged. It wasn't until another yell followed, with slight desperation, "Up here _now!_ Help me!" that everybody tried to cram themselves into the tiny lift really meant for three. With a single, ominous creak, the elevator complied and grudgingly took them up to the command deck.

The moment the lift doors clattered open thirty-one _Brawl_ characters tumbled out into the spacious control room, gazing at the scene of terror: Olimar's Pikmin seemed to have snuck upstairs during Meta Knight's speech and mistook the central command center as a playground. They were all pressing buttons, jumping on the many dashboards, toggling levers, and (in the case of a single, rather fat Purple Pikmin) preparing to spring onto the steering wheel as if off a diving board.

"NO!" many voices cried, Meta Knight's the loudest, but to no avail; it sprang and grabbed the wheel, which spun wildly under the weight. The ship responded by swerving upside down.

"I'm gonna be sick!" Marth yelled. Ash smacked the ceiling, now the floor, and went unconscious again as DK fell on top of him to the sound of cracking bones. Samus and Sonic had been the only two to grab something attached to the floor, _pipes_, and dangled by their arms as everyone fell below them.

"Pikmin on rampage!" Toon Link screamed, groggily sitting up. Around him many disembodied Pikmin spirits floated up to the ceiling. It seemed that the sudden change of sky and earth's gravity made all but five drop dead as they thudded into the floor like bullets.

Staggering slightly, Diddy took a few dazed steps and walked directly into Meta Knight. Not even bothering to spare the monkey a second thought, he shoved Diddy away, causing the chimp to smack into Lucas. "How am I supposed to steer this thing now?" the Star Warrior growled, glaring up at the wheel that stood twenty plus feet above his head. Never mind the fact that he had wings tucked beneath his cape.

"I got it!" Pit cried jubilantly, taking out his bow. Taking aim with his tongue between his teeth, he raised his bow and released an arrow the same moment the ship gave an almighty lurch below them. Not exactly one of his most brilliant plans, but hey, at least he made an effort. The arrow instead crashed into a lever, knocking it back. Murphy's Law, ever the one to mock them, spurred the Halberd on to greater speed and momentum.

"Stop it!" Meta Knight begged, somewhat hysterically as Pit shot more missed arrows at his wheel. Sparks erupted from the abused console as the light arrows impaled the machinery and dissolved upon impact.

Yoshi sat up, shaking his head, and glanced at R.O.B.; the robot was now directly below the wheel, gazing up and scanning it, looking for a way to get at it—he could hover sort of, and Meta Knight and Pit were some of the few present who could fly, though for whatever the reason in the midst of the pandemonium logic seemed to be abandoned in favor of Pit playing archery with the delicate machine. Some days, you had to wonder if the constant impact trauma was killing brain cells.

"I got it!" Yoshi shouted, bounding through the jumble of fallen people before giving a great leap. His feet made contact with both Meta Knight's and R.O.B.'s heads as he pushed off them, grabbed the wheel, and yanked.

The entire ship shuddered and very swiftly turned upside right again, sending everybody crashing back onto the floor with renewed groans and yelps. The remainder of Olimar's Pikmin were crushed, this time by Captain Falcon ("Oops..."), and the pint-sized suit-wearer let out another dry sob.

Sitting up, Nana and Popo both cheered together, "Let's do that again!" with gleeful smiles. Mixed glares and dubious looks were thrown in the siblings' direction.

"I'd prefer not, if you don't mind," Mario commented dryly as he offered Peach a hand.

Diddy gave Ash a kick in the stomach. "He went unconscious again! Great, well, you can carry him DK, you knocked him out..."

The tie-wearing ape snorted. "This is why you shouldn't leave jobs to humans," he half-joked, scooping up Ash bridal style and slinging him over his shoulder. "Did anything break?"

"My jaw," Wolf snapped, rubbing his face rather forcefully, while Lucario stood up.

As Zelda stumbled to her feet both Links rushed forward with identical cries of, "I'll help!" The only thing the willing volunteers accomplished was to running skull-first into each other and thumping to the floor. Meanwhile, the Hyrulian princess got up gracefully, muttering, "Morons," and joined DK, Ness and Kirby by the lift's door.

"Well, now that's over," Sonic said impatiently, grinning, "race you all back downstairs!" He vanished in a blue-red blur.

"—how?" Falco spluttered. "The only way downstairs is the lift..."

"Maybe he's so fast he doesn't need it?" Captain Falcon suggested halfheartedly, scratching the back of his head. "Or the git can teleport and never told us about it..."

"Chaos Emeralds?" R.O.B. offered, already wheeling back into the lift.

Nobody really replied as they all crammed back into the lift and went downstairs again. As it clattered to a stop they all poured out (basically, they tripped over themselves due to the lack of space) back to their respective seats. Sonic was shifting in his chair again, looking restless.

"Can't you all go faster?" he whined as they took their seats.

"Can't you go any slower?" Diddy retorted as he occupied the chair beside him. "God, you make crack addicts look decent, Sonic."

"Well, excuse _me_ for being born so fast I can't keep still!"

"The attitude sure doesn't help though, does it?"

Sonic narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't be a monkey if I ripped your tail out, huh?"

Lucario's eyes snapped open as he roared, "Please, please, please! You"—he pointed at Sonic, who shrank into his seat fearfully—"patience might help control the speed addiction. And you"—Diddy's eyes bugged—"play nice, or I'll rip your tail out and feed it to the walking eating machine." A thumb jerk indicated the Star Warrior, who looked only too happy to comply.

Kirby gave an enthusiastic squeak in affirmation.

Both glowered, united in their humiliation against Lucario. However, a cough from Samus broke off the would-be fight. Heads turned in Meta Knight's direction again as the older Star Warrior regarded Kirby pensively. "Actually, that brings me to rules three, four and five.

"Three: I pilot the ship. Four: Please try to contain yourselves and limit the fighting to battle practices, training, or saving the world—by the way, you'll all be cleaning this place up for wrecking it—Five..." Meta Knight glanced at Kirby again before saying very slowly and calmly, as if bracing himself, "Now that you'll all be staying here...the 'food' thing just reminded me of it, actually..." Taking a quick breath, expecting protests, he elaborated, "We can all chip in and do our fair share of work. _Chores_."

Now, in life there were some horrors so intense that they could send chills through people without even trying. Visits with in-laws, hour-long cross-country road trips, and shopping malls during Black Friday were some of the possessors of said skill. Apparently so was the word "chore."

Silence greeted Meta Knight's announcement.

At last, Marth slammed his fists on the table. "That's a joke—_right_?" he asked weakly, giving a quick, desperate sort of laugh. Under the dutiful, furious glare of Meta Knight, Marth was reminded how lucky he was that only half an inch of hair had been shaved off. Recalling that painful memory, he ran his hand over the top of his surgically blue hair, wincing slightly.

Pikachu gave a few short nods. His head barely came to line with the tabletop. "Pika! Pik, pikachu!"

Jigllypuff nodded. "Jiggly puff, jig, jiggly puff puff!" she agreed heartily.

Lucario sighed. "They both said that next to saving the world it should be easy, even"—the Aura Pokémon winced—"_fun_."

"'Fun'?" Luigi parroted. "'Easy'? Knocking the stuffing out of Tabuu was easy."

"The perfectionist prat will be making sure we get every last speck of microscopic dirt off the floors!" Toon Link added disdainfully, squeezing his thumb and index finger together to emphasize his point.

Samus narrowed her eyes. "Cut him some slack," she snapped. "Be grateful you even get to think such a thing. We get boarding room here—better be chores than rent. I seemed to have noticed none of you has any money—and I should know, I was looting through your stuff earlier while we were fighting..."

Toon Link gaped. "Wow. I thought the Zelda reincarnation was bad, but I guess all girls are pilfering thieves."

Peach, Zelda, Jigglypuff, Samus and Nana all snapped their heads to glare down the table at him. It was actually kind of scary. Mario patted Toon Link on the shoulder.

"Bad move, Romeo," the plumber consoled. "Girls don't like being snubbed." He inwardly flinched as he recalled, "I once teased Peach about being fat and she threw me out the nearest window."

* * *

"_Hey, Peach?"_

_It was barely a week after the group had returned from their ill-fated trip to Isle Delfino. Currently Peach and Toadsworth were huddled over a table with dozens of papers spread before them. It actually derailed Mario's train of thought, seeing Peach doing what looked like legit paperwork. Over the many years the two had known each other, the Italian plumber had never seen her pick up any sort of legal documentation, let alone file it. Come to think of it, perhaps that was why the Mushroom Kingdom was so successfully invaded on a weekly basis, with the lack of proper fortifications and the whatnot. Then again, that's sort of what he was there for._

_Bright blue eyes regarded him as Peach glanced up. Like the rest of the beachgoers, her skin was still fairly tan. Toadsworth, already a moderate shade of brown on his toadstool, looked positively sunburned, as if someone had thrown him in an Easy Bake Oven just to see if he could be cooked and consumed. _

_Morbid humor aside._

"_Yes, Mario? Can I help you?" the Mushroom Princess prompted, sounding just a tad strained. Taken aback by her tone, Mario trotted up to the table and peered down at the papers sprawled across its marble surface._

"_Huh…? Oh! Yeah. I was wondering if you were up for a game of tennis."_

_She_ should _have taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker. What happened instead was Peach shaking her head and circling a line on one of the leaflets before them with a sharpie. "Sorry, Mario, but I'm a bit preoccupied."_

_Damn. Guess it was time to act like the sensitive and caring boyfriend. "Oh? What's got you so rattled? Is it something I can help with? Bowser again?"_

_What he didn't expect was for Peach to flinch and brush down the folds of her flowing pink dress, chin ducked down and hands clenched atop the marble. "Something like that."_

_Of course, Mario was prepared to deliver one of his snappy one liners about what the King of the Koopas could go do to himself. All witty repertoire vanished, however, when he caught sight of one of the paper's content. "Birth certificates for Bowser, Jr.?"_

_Well. That explained a lot._

"_Peach," exhaled Mario, torn between exasperation and amusement, "for the last time, you are _not _his mother. Bowser was just trying to mess with your head."_

"_B-But," Peach protested, her head snapping up to meet his, "he was so certain that I was…"_

_Time to be blunt. "Don't you think one of us would have noticed if you were pregnant, Peach?" Sometimes, Mario privately admitted, his job sucked. "Unless we all somehow suffered from memory loss and forgot about the last nine months, then believe me: You're. Not. His. Mom."_

_Suddenly, a rare moment of cruel humor struck him. Offering his most devious grin, Mario tapped his chin thoughtfully and leaned back to give the princess a once-over. "Though," he pondered aloud, "your bathing suit _did _look a little tight on you while we were on vacation…"_

_The last thing Mario remembered after that was freefalling out of the fifth-story window with the ground rushing to meet him head-on._

* * *

"…I still have the scars, too."

Peach scowled, looking dangerous compared to her usually upbeat, sugary self. "Men are insensitive, brainless noobs."

DK gawked. "Did she just call you a _noob__?_"

As the majority began to reach for their weapons, Olimar, who currently had nothing to defend himself with, asked Meta Knight hastily, "Didn't you say there was a _no-fighting rule__?_"

Meta Knight blinked. "I did," he agreed. "Ladies," he pacified, "save it for training practice. You can kick their asses another time."

With satisfied smiles the women went back to looking dainty and harmless. Falco inched his chair away from Nana slightly.

"Continuing on with rule number five," he went on, "I'll lighten up on that tomorrow morning. The next rule…" Meta Knight cracked open the book and read: "Please refrain from swearing, derogative comments, excessive vulgarity, and—"

"I'm calling bullshit!" Fox exclaimed, and pointed accusingly at the masked warrior. "I bet he's making these up as he goes along."

"Nope. Take a look, Fox," Meta Knight said smugly, thrusting the book into his face. Fox's peeved expression disappeared behind the pages as he read, while others raised their voices in complaint:

"Not fair! Not fair!" Pit chanted in rhythm to banging both his fists on the table.

"Beep!" ("You can forget it!") Mr. Game and Watch yelled.

"Poyo!" Kirby cried, pointing a pink stub at Meta Knight from the opposite end of the table.

"Why do you even care, Kirby?" Ness asked curiously. "You can't even speak basic English."

"I speak Japanese!" Marth stated cheerfully to nobody in particular. "Does that mean I still get to swear in Japanese?"

"No," Meta Knight growled from underneath his mask. "Really, is it so difficult to convey a simple meaning without relying on curses? If I believed in reincarnation then I would have pegged you all for sailors in your past lives. For some of you, every other word out of your mouths is a swear."

Rather abruptly, Snake chucked a dinner fork at Meta Knight that he had picked off of the floor in a manner similar to Sonic's accidental toss earlier. In a swish of his purple cape Meta Knight disappeared and reappeared in the same spot, evading the projectile weapon.

"Damn it, Snake! If you don't like it then say it to my face; don't throw my silverware." Meta Knight scowled as he sunk back into his seat. It barely took a second to realize exactly what he'd spat, before everyone jumped on his slip-up like piranha.

"You broke your own rule!" the Ice Climbers chorused.

"Hypocrite," Sonic muttered disdainfully, while Link cried out, "Change it!"

Ash, still in his unconscious state in his chair, would have protested had he been awake to. Instead his head sagged on his shoulder and he grunted.

Captain Falcon narrowed his eyes. "Why don't you take that rule and shove it up your ass?"

Under the sudden tidal wave of pressure Meta Knight was forced to relent. Seemingly taking out a marker from nowhere, he popped off the cap and scribbled out rule number six. "There. Happy?"

Numerous cheers went up into the air.

"Majority vote; motion passed!" Diddy screeched as only he could. Next to him, DK gave a roar of approval and pounded on his chest ape-style.

"Rule number seven," Meta Knight sighed above the gales of laughter, "we'll have training sessions every other day, in timing with chores."

No protests. As if they would object to an excuse to beat each other senseless. He continued: "Rule number eight: _no pets_."

DK and Diddy swapped nervous looks that went unnoticed by everyone except for Lucario.

"Why?" Lucas asked softly from his seat.

"Pets are hazards to the ship's health and all those present."

Wolf folded his arms across his chest and asked in a voice oozing sarcasm, "What do you think we're going to do? Take Goombas for walks on a leash?"

R.O.B. turned his head toward Meta Knight, asking cautiously, "Does this regard...ah...Pokémon?"

As Pikachu, Jigglypuff and Lucario were the only ones present they all turned quelling looks toward the robot. R.O.B. shook his head.

"It was just a question..."

"'Just a question'!" Lucario snarled, rising to his feet. His eyes glowed a menacing yellow. "Do you think us below your intelligence?"

R.O.B. flinched. "I only meant to say that you guys normally depend on trainers..."

A blinding flash streaked across the room as Pikachu let loose a hellbent yowl and zapped R.O.B. The effect wasn't very pretty. The robot began to smoke on the head from a rather charred-looking scorch mark. Wolf turned in his chair and began to beat down the sparks radiating from his circuitry.

Pikachu's cheeks sparked as he gave several loud cries of fury. "Pika! Pik, pikachu, pikapi chu! Pika!"

"'I have no human masters,'" Lucario translated. Even if he was playing the role of translator, he sounded just as impassioned. "'I come to the aid of others, but I decide things on my own.' As do Jigglypuff and I," Lucario finished gravely, inclining his head.

"Well," Pit mused, "that got awkward fast."

With no more outbursts following his rather proud, solemn speech, Meta Knight gave a pronounced "ahem" that made everybody start slightly. "Fair point. Pokémon do not count as pets but highly intelligent beings. Now, may I continue? Or do we have to go into the political rights and suffrage of Digimon?"

Sometimes it was just easier to agree and nod your head, if only to get them compliant. And sometimes, you had to fight snarkery with snarkery.

When no one made a motion to speak, Meta Knight continued, reading now word-for-word from the book: "Rule number nine: 'When there are more than twenty people sharing living space on the Halberd it's twenty-minute shower-usage per person.'"

Marth and Ike both regarded Meta Knight as if he had just admitted an all-consuming desire to become a ballerina and go starch naked.

"That…That's a joke?" Marth begged softly. "Please say that's a joke..."

Falco snorted. "Pretty boy and pretty boy here both need forty minutes each to primp and preen each other." He then swiped up Peach's hand mirror from the tabletop and pretended to poke his face in the mirror's reflection. "'My noses looks too off-center!' 'Is that a ZIT?' 'So help me, I think I'll _die_ of _ugliness_.'"

While the room burst into fits of laughter (Yoshi actually fell out of his seat) Marth and Ike both scowled. Blue-haired and incredibly similar-looking, it was hard to decide who to laugh at. Probably Marth, considering how his impromptu haircut ruined his image.

"We do not!" Marth snarled. "I just need to uphold royal pride for my fair kingdom."

"What kingdom?" Snake snorted. "It's a pile of rubble and bricks. Who are your subjects, Your Highness? Fleas and grains of sand?"

As Marth turned scarlet in the face (magnificently clashing with his hair) Nana and Popo both chimed in, "The last rule, please!"

Meta Knight looked highly relieved to be on the final page of "important rules." "If you'll all get up," he beckoned wearily, "then I'll show you."

"Show us what?" Ness whispered suspiciously as the scraping of chairs filled the room.

Lucas shrugged. "Dunno, but maybe we can ask about food soon." His stomach growled in agreement. "I haven't eaten in forever..."

"Hey!" Fox shouted, causing the other _Brawl_ characters to glance his way. "What about him?" He pointed at Ash, who was still unconscious.

"Poor kid," Wolf rumbled, scratching his chin with a claw. "I could always bite him, or kick him where the sun-don't-shine... Would brighten my day, anyway."

He gazed imploringly at Meta Knight, who hesitated. The swords master shrugged. "Do what you must," he replied before heading toward the doors leading out into the hallway.

Wolf flashed his incisors in a wicked grin. "My _pleasure_..."

When everybody had filed out into the silvery, metallic hallway (Kirby being the last) behind them came a loud cry of pain, followed by Fox and Wolf's roar of laughter.

"What the _hell _was that for?"

"Oh, look," Falco said breezily, "Ash woke up."

Hearty laughter rose from the crowd as Fox and Wolf returned, sniggering. Meanwhile Ash doubled over as he emerged from the conference room, hands clutching in a half-spasm at his groin. He swore loudly and let out a quiet sob. "Did you _have_ to do that?" he winced.

"Tried, failed," Fox replied calmly, "but you just _wouldn't wake up_... So deary me, we had to give you a little _nudge_."

"That was more than a _little nudge_," Ash spat.

"You'll make a full recovery," Wolf promised him before skipping after the rest of the _Brawl_ characters.

Rather than confront the madness, the Star Warrior proceeded as if nothing had happened. "This door here," Meta Knight indicated with a wave, pointing to a bright, silver-black door on their first right (it being beside the conference room entryway), "is the kitchen. It connects to the conference room, where you'll be eating meals. I'll take care of supplying—"

"Did you say food?" Yoshi piped up, stopping so abruptly that Mr. Game and Watch, Pit, and Samus all bumped into him from behind.

Meta Knight turned around, slightly curious as to what would prompt such a strong reaction out of all of them. "Yes," he answered cautiously. "Did you think I'd starve you all?"

"_Yes_," moaned Link, eyeing the door raptly. "None of us have eaten in hours... Well, minus Kirby. He ate all of DK and Diddy's bananas..."

Both of the Kongs glared at Kirby, who was now tugging fruitlessly at the locked doorknob. He turned his dark eyes onto Meta Knight and opened his mouth like a fish out of water, gaping, before struggling to open the door again.

"You're still hungry?" DK snorted.

Kirby answered by yanking the doorknob out of its socket. He waved it in his hand before turning to glare at Meta Knight again. "Poyo?"

"You'll eat soon enough," Meta Knight assured as he got the gist of his pupil's voiceless plea. "And_ please_, put that back..."

Kirby nodded, and with every pair of eyes fixed on him, stuffed the doorknob back into its empty frame upside down. "Kirby!" Kirby cried triumphantly. As the pink Star Warrior began to move away the door gave a loud _creeeeak_ and fell off its hinges, backward, into the kitchen.

"FREE FOR ALL!" Link roared, and with him in the lead, the stampede charged into the space-colored, silver-blue tiled kitchen, trampling Meta Knight in the process.

Meta Knight barely had the chance to yell "My door!" before he was flattened by the group of very hungry _Brawl_ characters. Struggling into a sitting position, he stared into the room, where everyone had managed to grab some form of food (Mr. Game and Watch had found a Party Ball). Little regard was spared as the ensemble tore ravenously into whatever they could find.

"You're not all dying of hunger, are you?" the Star Warrior asked, somewhat incredulously.

Pikachu stood up on the table near the cabinets, sucked in his gut so that every rib was visible as if plaster-molded, and fell onto the floor. Also managing to grab a flower from the counter vase, he held it in his paws as he lay pathetically on the floor.

"Said the fat yellow rodent that weights the same as Charizard," Ness scoffed, though he was grinning through a mouthful of jam and bread.

Somebody had unearthed a six-foot hoagie, which was now being eaten by Popo and Nana, one Ice Climber at each end. Peach was daintily sipping tea with Fox and Zelda, while Link, Toon Link, Lucas, and Lucario were all enjoying a bountiful harvest of donuts.

"I didn't know you liked donuts, Meta Knight," Luigi grinned as he helped himself to a pitcher of lemonade he'd found in the fridge, the fridge in question about eight feet tall by five feet wide.

"I don't," the Star Warrior grunted, watching from the now empty door frame. Right now he was having a hard time deciding whether he was angry or bemused. "I bought them after you all forced yourselves upon me. I didn't know what you liked to eat, so I gathered anything that was high in fat would suffice."

Apparently it was _also_ a crime in the Mushroom Kingdom to be fat, because Peach gave Meta Knight a disgusted look. "That stuff is gross and unhealthy!"

Samus, who was trying to shove an eight-inch hamburger into her mouth all at once, rolled her eyes. "Speak for yourself—the Chozo people never had a McDonalds drive through..."

"Well, it's bad for you," Peach snapped. "It can lead to obesity, lack of energy, fatigue, heart problems, death. I can almost see your grave now: 'Here lies Samus Aran. Cause of death: a cheeseburger.'"

But nobody was really paying her any attention. In fact, all that her forewarning accomplished was prompt those seated near her into reciting lolcat captions.

"Kaabii!" Kirby said heartily; the pink Star Warrior opened his mouth and inhaled, sucking the food out of Marth, Ash, and Jigglypuff's hands. They all glared daggers at Kirby, who swallowed, still eyeing the rest of them with an undisguised famish.

"Which reminds me." Meta Knight crossed the room and took a seat beside Kirby. "Kirby needs to be supervised when he's in here. I'm not taking out a huge wat of money from my private stores every time the living vacuum goes on an eating spree..."

"What? You got a vault or somethin'?" Fox demanded in between guzzles from his tea. "Where at?"

"Drink your tea. It'll get cold," Meta Knight advised, ever the evasive one.

Diddy, who had taken a banana out of the fridge turned toward Meta Knight. "Do you suppose that DK and I could keep our bananas in here?"

Meta Knight shrugged. "Sure, why not? It's not as if you've asked for permission for anything else up until now."

Both primates grinned at each other before high-fiving. "Score!"

All of the sudden there came a loud hacking, sputtering noise from one section of the room. Lucario was on his knees, spitting in convulsion on the floor while clutching at his throat; the color was oddly draining out of his face...

"Ooh, sweet! I love this game," Pit cheered, bending down next to Lucario on the floor. "It's charades! I used to play charades with my old squad. Y'know, when I was a Captain, back before Palutena 'reassigned' me to _Brawl_."

Lucario made a violent motion at the fruit bowl on the table with one hand. He glared wickedly at Pit, who went on smiling.

"Let's see..." With many eyes on him, the angel declared, "He's sick! He's sick of...what are you sick of?"

Lucario made a hacking noise and made a grabbing motion at the air in front of Pit's face, clearly trying to strangle him.

"Me?" Pit frowned. "Well, that isn't very nice! I quit." He then stood up and all huffy-like turned his back away.

The more intelligent ones in the room, like Snake or Zelda, recognized the symptoms of a Pokémon in distress. "He's choking," Snake assessed in a bored-sounding tone as Zelda bent down next to the Aura Pokémon.

"Well that's a stupid thing to charade," snapped Pit, still as clueless as ever.

Zelda scowled, while others jumped to their feet and crowded around a now white-in-the-face Lucario.

"I know CPR," the Hyrulian princess said uncertainly, looking apprehensive. "But they never taught us how to do it on a Pokémon..."

"You learned CPR?" Mario blinked, more than likely wishing that Peach was half as useful. At least Zelda didn't get kidnapped on a 24/7 basis.

"Of course." Zelda sighed in exasperation. No one was paying the slightest bit of attention to Lucario anymore, who was now cross-eyed, coughing violently and very pale. His grip on his own throat was slipping. "All members of the Royal Family were well versed in a variety of subjects: combatant skills, medical techniques, literature and arts..."

Ike tapped Zelda on the shoulder and pointed at Lucario, who had gone unconscious. "I think he's dead."

R.O.B. looked Lucario over once, before concluding, "Nope, still alive, but you might want to hurry up with that CPR now..."

"Oh. Right." Zelda pulled a book off of her person and flipped through the pages. Where she had been storing that beforehand was anyone's guess. "Here; I'll read off the instructions."

Jigglypuff positioned herself next to Lucario, while many others watched with a morbid sort of fascination.

"First, deliver five back blows between the person's shoulder blades with the heel of your hand."

Jigglypuff obliged rather enthusiastically using Pound.

"Next, perform five abdominal thrusts (also known as the Heimlich maneuver)."

While Jigglypuff used Double-Slap for this part (oh-so-effective) Fox rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I always got tongue-tied when trying to say that word. I think I once said 'hindlick' instead... No wonder people would laugh."

"Alternate between five back blows and five abdominal thrusts until the blockage is dislodged."

Lucario, meanwhile, had been reawaken underneath the consistent amount of "helping" Jigglypuff was doing and thought he was under attack. Still gagging, a blue-gray glow shimmered around his spiked paws as the Aura Pokémon tried to fight off his "attacker."

"She's helping you, you idiot!" Samus snapped.

Meta Knight, who had watched the scene of chaos unfold in his kitchen with a dull, glazed look, sighed. "This is getting ridiculous," he muttered, getting up and crossing the kitchen. He shoved Olimar out of the way, went behind Lucario, and gave the blue Pokémon a hard kick in the back.

Lucario gave one final sputter and spat out an apple that sailed over the heads of the watching crowd, hitting Sonic in the face.

"Oh, gross!" The blue hedgehog caught the half-eaten apple in his left hand. "What idiot tries to stuff it all in his mouth at once, anyway? Hey." His eyes glittered with laughter as he turned toward Peach, suddenly chuckling. "See, you're wrong about healthy food—it _can_ kill you. You're better off eating chips and ice cream and soda..."

While Peach snorted at his assertion, Lucario was panting on the floor, both fists balled into glowing aura spheres. "Pit," Lucario panted huskily, "run...now...before I get...strength back...and...strangle...you."

Pit jumped back a bit, an idea suddenly coming to him. "Rule number four: 'Can't touch this'!'" he sang gleefully, doing a rather unseemly two-step in front of Lucario.

After a rather uncertain, half-amused, half-concerned silence, Meta Knight walked back in the direction of the doorless frame, glancing over his shoulder. "Can we get on with my final rule?"

Snake's eyebrows rose a fraction. "You never said what it was."

"One: I specifically said that I had to show you. Secondly, I couldn't because you all felt the need to make a detour _across my spinal cord_." A brief reflexive shoulder roll was followed by his spine protesting aloud at the motion. Winces followed the cracking noise. "Follow m—oh, wait." Meta Knight paused. He waved a hand first in the direction of the toppled door, then down the hallway, stating in a rather self-satisfied voice, "You'll be fixing the door _and_ the conference room tomorrow. I _almost_ forgot."

Olimar gulped. "But Kirby wrecked the door..."

"And you _stampeded_ over it. See the logic?"

"Uh...no."

"Too bad," Meta Knight called over his shoulder, pacing out of the room. Shrugging and exchanging bemused looks, again the _Brawl_ characters got up and followed their "landlord," now fully fed and contented.

They plowed after him as he made another left, leading down a long, spacious hallway with many doors on either side. Their odd procession looked eerily reminiscent of a teacher taking an elementary school field trip to a museum with exhibits of fragile, breakable things. To himself, Meta Knight sighed. It certainly _felt _like he was in charge of people with the mental capacity of a fifth grader.

"I had these rooms cleared out so you could all stay," the swordsman stated, coming to a standstill in front of one of the doors. "They each hold two to a room. You get to share."

"Share?" Popo repeated. His question was echoed by several of those around him. He shook his head slightly as if afraid he had misheard.

"Yep." The Star Warrior then pulled a sheaf of paper from the folds of his cloak. "And to avoid any fights over who gets which room, I fixed it out for you."

"WHAT?" came several angry cries from more than one person in the large group.

Meta Knight leveled them a look that dared them to argue. "To be fair, I arranged living quarters in advance to save time. Better get it done with than worry about you idiots arguing with each other for the next four hours over who sleeps where. On an aside, I forgot to clarify an objective I strongly support: girls together, boys together. No mixing."

"Why?" R.O.B. chirped up from the back. Many of those present gave him partly scathing, partly bemused looks. The robot looked slightly cowed. "Can't I ask a question?"

Pit's wings flicked idly as he looked the robot up and down. "Seriously? No one ever gave you 'the talk'?"

"The what?"

"Guess not." Link gave an absent scratch to the back of his mop of blonde hair. "What's there to lose?" Feeling rather proud of himself, the Ordon adolescent knelt next to R.O.B., simultaneously placing a hand on his shoulder in what he thought was a "comforting" gesture. In reality, it only filled the robot's tanks with an overwhelming sense of _God-please-save-me_. "All right. Let's say you have this handsome, macho guy and this drop-dead sexy girl. Or it could be two guys. Or two girls. Hell, it could be some guy and a badger for all I know—"

"Get to the point," Lucario grunted.

"…Right. Anyway," Link continued—blithely unaware of Zelda off in the background, frantically signaling for him to stop—"so say that the good-lookin' bloke asks the chic out for some drinks. They go to the local bar, drink about ten beers apiece before getting totally wasted, and then when they get back to her apartment, they—"

"Really, Link," Marth interrupted. Haughtily he crossed his arms over his navy, gold-tinged chestpiece and spared the Hylian a contemptuous look. "Can't you come up with anything more tactful?"

"Fine," Link scoffed. "You want 'more tactful'? I'll give you 'more tactful.' Bunch of prudes…" He took a deep breath and tried a different tactic, much to some of his comrades' dismay. "You see, once a month women turn into bloody, territorial creatures, prone to destroying everything in their paths—especially guys. They need to be separated from the men during this period so that they don't kill us in our sleep due to close confinement. There. The PG censored version."

Well, you had to give him points for trying. At least he got a small (read: microscopic) part of that explanation right.

Over Peach and Samus's identical protests, Marth's song-suffering sigh, and the others' varied laughter, R.O.B. made himself heard: "So all women are actually…" Here he paused, obviously trying to abridge the Triforce bearer's garble into something that he could understand. "…werewolves?"

"Sure, werewolves." Sonic rolled his eyes. "Let's go with that."

The android rotated his head to study Nana with a little more apprehension that before. "Huh. It certainly explains why human females are so obsessed with shaving. I guess werewolves need to get rid of all the excess fur."

Scarlet crept across Nana's cheeks as she tugged her pink hood down ever so subtly. Falco, with a grin so broad that it had to hurt, was making a personal recording of the conversation. It was simply too priceless to not deserve a spotlight on YouTube.

Off to the side Wolf took on a mildly insulted appearance. "Hey! There's nothing wrong with being a wolf, or having fur! You don't see me shearing my armpits anytime soon, do you?"

To his chagrin, he was ignored by the bulk of the group in favor of R.O.B.'s next question: "What about the badger?"

Link dismissed the comment with a hand wave. "Just forget about the badger. It was an example."

The gyros in his systems hummed as R.O.B. rocked back and forth, weighing the value of what Link had told him. "I…guess it makes sense, then."

"Eh, sure, why not?" Ash shrugged. "Better than telling him that a Pelipper deliveries itty-bity bots in the middle of the night."

For a second DK hesitated as he contemplated what the Pokémon Trainer had said. "Don't you mean storks?"

"No. I mean Pelippers."

"Oh for the love of…" Captain Falcon facepalmed. "R.O.B., don't you have wi-fi in your head or something?"

"Technically speaking, it's a wireless router implanted within my neural net. But, yes, I do. Why?" the robot questioned. Around him, those that had caught on either began to snicker behind their hands, or swapped uneasy looks.

"Google 'the miracle of life.'"

Gears whirred as the mechanical fighter obviously followed his instructions, his optics taking on a vacant look as he reviewed his finds. Seconds after his search R.O.B. made a sputtering noise, as if he was choking on static. "You know, I think I liked Link's explanation better. Thanks for that…_enlightening_ video, Captain Falcon."

Said F-Zero racer smirked. "Any time."

After yet another long, drawn-out pause, Meta Knight decided to pretend that the conversation had never happened. "Now, in this room here"—he pointed to the first on his right—"will be Link and Toon Link's room."

"Him?" both snarled at the same time, rounding on each other like angry wolverines. Earlier's fight surfaced to the forefront of their minds, bringing with it the urge to unsheathe their swords and try to shish kabob each other.

Again, Meta Knight shrugged. "It made sense to me."

"Of course it did; you're a dictator!" Toon Link accused, glaring at the mask-wearing warrior. "It's all ha-ha's for you, sticking us with people we don't like. You get your jollies from watching us tear each other limb from limb."

Omitting the fact that they all willingly did that on a daily basis.

"You'll be fine," Meta Knight snapped testily. "And to make sure that you both behave," he raised his voice over both Links' complaints, "Zelda and Peach get the room_ right across from you both_. Happy?"

"No," Toon Link answered sulkily. "How's this fair?"

The older of the two Links settled for diplomacy. "We could always duct tape our room down the center."

"No."

"Flip a coin?"

"Yeah, right."

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

"_Hell_ no."

"How about the one who annoys me the least doesn't get shanked with Galaxia?" Meta Knight offered, promptly silencing their bickering. He continued with his roll call, pointing at the door next to both Links'. "This one is for Ash and Lucas."

"No objection here," Ash yawned, grinning at the blonde-haired boy.

Lucas returned the look, a little more shyly.

"Across from them are DK and Diddy."

Both primates beamed very yellow, badly-needed-to-be-brushed teeth at him.

"It's both Ice Climbers in the room beside theirs."

Snake raised a hand in a gesture similar to that of a kid in a classroom's.

"Yes?" Meta Knight asked.

"Why do they get to share a room?" Snake gruffly demanded.

"Brother and sister. Kin are more trustworthy that just two random people stuck in the same living space together. Never mind the mental scarring we all had to endure a minute ago," Meta Knight enunciated, slowly, as if to a small child. Snake's hand slumped back down to his side, comprehension dawning upon his 160 IQ.

"Oh."

"Across from Nana and Popo is Marth—"

Marth beamed, prepared to hear great words of comfort and satisfaction, until Meta Knight finished his thought "—and Lucario."

Marth's jaw fell open and smacked the floor in disbelief. "WHAT?" he roared, stomping forward until he stood face-to-face with Meta Knight at what some might call an "inappropriate distance." "Why did I get landed with the blue wombat?"

Lucario, who had accepted this news without a blink, turned a nasty shade of brick red. "Do you think I want to be stuck with some pansy pretty boy?" the Pokémon growled. His blue-black tail lashed.

The Lowell prince struck a pose. "I am not a pretty boy," he shot back. "_I_ am the ruler of Altea, whose ancient royal family's blood flows through my veins. Why do I get stuck with a _commoner_?"

A loud _bang!_ filled the hallway as Yoshi, Ike, and Olimar all crashed into the wall and fell into a sloppy pile with Marth on top, KO'd, and bleeding slightly from the corner of their mouths.

Lucario's offensive posture dropped instantly. "Damn it," he mumbled, looking highly embarrassed and contrite. Underfoot his paws shuffled across the floor. "Er... I didn't mean to lose control. Honest! I'm normally very...level-headed."

"It's nothing that can't be fixed," Ash chimed in breezily, reaching into the backpack slung over his shoulder. He then pulled out an odd-looking medicine labeled "PKMN Revive." Something about the bottle set off all sorts of warning bells in Meta Knight's head.

"Ash," he cautioned, "I really think that it would be better to use human curatives. Pokémon medicine wouldn't work on them."

"_Nonsense!"_ Ash countered, spraying Ike on the forehead. "They'll be fine!" His maniacal grin didn't reassure Meta Knight, but hey, how could it get any worse?

By ignoring them he could instead return to assigning the next rooms going down the hallway, next to Marth and Lucario's. "This one goes to"—Meta Knight consulted his list—"Falco and Fox."

Both Star Fox troopers grinned at each other. Meta Knight continued in a would-be-calm voice: "Across from them is Pit and Mario."

"Working together again, I see?" Pit beamed. Mario returned the look, silently glad his roommate hadn't been—

"Kirby's next to your room, by the way." Meta Knight's voice interrupted his thought process.

Mr. Game and Watch jumped up. "Beep!" ("Why does he get his own room?")

Meta Knight gave a weary huff. "Do you really want to be in the same room as Kirby? Think about it."

All conscious heads turned in Kirby's wake. The pink puffball had skipped over to the vacant room and opened the door, which everyone peered into behind him. In one corner was a bunk bed with blue and white sheets and a fluffy white pillow. In the center of the room was a table with some kind of fern on it; against the wall, a wardrobe and chest with drawers; finally, in the far right-hand corner beside the bed, a smaller door that worked as a closet. A large, colorful rug was spread out over the entire floor. Considering Meta Knight's background and shady character, the room seemed very festive and out of place of the silvery blue-gray metal that was his choice of decor for the Halberd's interior.

"Everybody's room is default. They'll more or less look the same, minus whatever contraband you decided to stow on my ship," Meta Knight tacked on. At the same time Kirby started ripping bed sheets off both bunks. He hitched all the pillows, pillow cases, and blankets into the wardrobe while everybody observed, nonplused.

"What's Kirby doing?" Zelda asked bluntly.

Diddy's tail lashed back and forth in idiosyncratic thought. "It looks like he's building a nest..."

The tiny Star Warrior, finished ripping everything off his beds, now clambered into his "den" and slammed the doors to his wardrobe shut. They all heard loud snores coming from inside it.

"He sleeps and eats?" Luigi echoed in dismay. "That's all he does?"

"Yep," Meta Knight replied. "A Kirby with a full stomach means little trouble for us. Let's go."

Grudgingly they all backed out of the room and closed the door. The rest accepted their room pairings much more calmly than the last, as followed:

Samus and Jigglypuff  
Captain Falcon and Luigi  
Olimar and Ike  
Mr. Game and Watch and Sonic  
R.O.B., alone  
Ness, also getting his own room  
Snake and Yoshi  
Meta Knight, alone ("Captain's privilege, now get off my case!" he snapped at a very upset Link.)

It was when the final pairing came up, Pikachu and Wolf, that there was very little tolerance going around.

"No." Wolf shook his head firmly and put his foot down. "I am not sharing a room with that fat, yellow beaver."

Pikachu gave him a menacing look. "Pika."

Meta Knight narrowed his yellow eyes. "This is the final room, there's nowhere else for you to stay, so you're getting this room and liking it."

Wolf banged his fist into his palm. "Objection!" he cried.

"Overruled," Meta Knight countered. "My ship, my say-so."

"No."

"Take it or leave it."

"I want a different room."

"Too bad."

"Put me with Ness."

"Maybe if there was a 'please' somewhere in there."

"Fine. Please?"

"No."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"Definitely not."

Wolf glared. "Fine, I'll go live in the basement with Jimmy then!" he spat, kicking the wall.

"No!" came the twin protests of DK and Diddy. "Yeah, um, because there are termites down there...," DK finished lamely. "And Meta Knight said no."

"How come I'm always put with rats?" Wolf added balefully, giving Pikachu a look that bespoke his dislike.

Pikachu's ears fell back. His tail bristled. "Pikachu! Pika, pik, pikapi! Pi, pik, pika!"

"What did he say?" several demanded simultaneously.

Lucario winced. "I'd rather not say..."

"R.O.B.?" Captain Falcon turned his eyes onto the robot, who merely shook his head.

"Don't ask me to repeat what he just said." R.O.B. hesitated, then amended his prior statement: "I could just skip the twenty-some curses he now added to my vocabulary and get right to the objectors, if you'd like..."

"Let's hear the worst." Though even as Wolf said this, he looked slightly worried.

"Pikachu said that Wolf would probably convert to primitive instincts and eat him. Pikachu also said that he could go jump off the ship and drown in Rayquaza's lake before he'd allow Wolf to sleep in the same room, let alone on the same ship." R.O.B. added, as if an afterthought, "Oh, yeah: 'Your mom.'"

Wolf picked Pikachu up by the tail and glared eye-to-eye with the Electric Mouse Pokémon. "What did you say, squeakers?"

The hallway was again filled for the second time that night with a blinding flash of light that subsided very quickly. The noise that went off like a gunshot ricocheted off the walls. Pikachu, it transpired, had zapped Wolf with Thunderbolt. Still holding Pikachu by the tail, Wolf agreed, coughing out soot, "I—_hack_—surrender."

All of the sudden a new voice made them jump. "How long...have I been out?"

"Hey, Marth's awake!"

"So are Olimar, Yoshi, and Ike."

* * *

**Meanwhile**

Outside the Halberd a swell of voices rose from the sleek metal hull of the ship. A deer that happened to be grazing on the grassy fields where the ship had been parked (The Swamp level) looked up curiously. Two more deer joined it in turn to stare at the ship.

"Dude, why does my face feel weird?"

"Excellent! The Revive worked!"

"It doesn't look like it worked..."

"Whaddaya mean, 'It doesn't _look_ like it worked'?"

"Well...um. Here's my hand mirror."

"Thanks, Pea—"

Marth's reply died slightly before taking full volume again, furious and angry at an octave loud enough to shatter glass. Several birds took flight in alarm from nearby trees as Marth screeched.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY FACE? THERE'S ALL THESE PURPLE _BLISTERS_ ON IT!"

"Mine too!"

"The hell—?"

"Don't touch it; it's working! This is just an...ah, after-effect."

"ASH, YOU DOLT! PEOPLE DON'T TURN PURPLE!"

"Um…surprise?"

"Pokémon medicine apparently doesn't work on people very well..."

"DON'T TOUCH ME, FALCO! AND STOP LAUGHING!"

"Meta Knight, do you have a hazard control on this ship? It might be contagious."

"No."

"I can fix it! All I need is a Rawst Berry and a dozen Super Potions—"

"YOU'VE DESTROYED MY PRIDE AND BEAUTY—no, keep _back_, Ash! BACK! You're not befouling me again!"

"First comes the hair, then the skin. What next?"

"Shut up, Snake!"

"Hey, is Ike's tongue turning orange?"

"That could be a problem. Zelda, could you go into the kitchen and get some Asprin from the medicine cabinet?"

"How is that going to cure them, Meta Knight?"

"You misunderstand me. It's not for them, but me. I have a migraine..."

"Olimar's eyes shouldn't be that color..."

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

"WHO WANTS DINNER?" another voice interrupted.

It went quiet. And then—

"Sure!"

"Okay!"

"Jiggly, jiggly puff!"

"Whatever."

"Yeah, thanks."

"You're just gonna _leave us here?_"

But nobody answered him. Shrugging, all the deer walked off into the woods, not quite sure whether all the people in that ship had escaped from the asylum or not. Tomorrow would be a busy day for life aboard the Halberd...

* * *

**A/N**: Did you like our first _Brawl_ chapter? Basically, they're all going to take turns doing chores in the next chapter, when we shall fully glimpse their first day living together under one roof. Sounds fun, right?

Please R&R. Thanks!

If you didn't understand the ending, it was basically told from the deers' perspective, listening to everybody inside panicking. The next chapter will pick up directly in the morning. Expect tons of humor.

— Sam and Alex


	2. Authors' Notes

Hello! Did you all like the first chapter? Thanks for all the great support so far. This, we think, will be a great hit for _SSB_:_Brawl_ fans everywhere.

We forgot to add some things...

As you'll all have noticed, beloved _Brawl_ characters Dedede, Wario, Ganondorf and Bowser aren't living on the Halberd. We didn't do this because we thought they were too "antagonist," when in truth, (SPOILER! SHIELD YOUR EYES!) they help save everybody in the end. Imagine trying to make sure that in every single chapter you always give 35(plus) characters speaking parts more than once. Well, throw in the others and we'll get really confused and have our brains explode for no good reason. We're also lazy slobs.

Thus, they live, as we like to think of it, "elsewhere," their own place to chillax and enjoy after-game time doing absolutely nothing. We WILL bring them back often to annoy the hell out of everybody else, oh, you can be rest assured of that. So, no, they are not gone forever. :D

TEASER: Look out for chapter three, "A Dark and Stormy Knight," for our excluded friends.

Finally: We'll also be bringing in characters who didn't make it into _Brawl_ but still deserve recognition for all their wonderful devotion to being...well, _them_! Remember Link's 'nag'? She's not gone... Link will never escape her vindicate awesomeness.

In reply to a very helpful Saya Aensland: We forgot that the Halberd blew up, to be honest. Spectacular it was, though! We're sure that Meta Knight was very upset to have lost it; so upset, in fact, that he went on eBay and bought _another_ Halberd! Isn't modern technology wonderful?

There's a conspiracy to this. Oh, _yes_, a brilliant one we came up with! You see: When all the _Brawl_ characters were planning for the invasion they assured Meta Knight that his ship would get away unscathed, when secretly it was agreed on: "His ship's only the distraction. We'll use the Halberd as bait, blow it up, and make a get away on our own ships!" It wouldn't be surprising if they had tried to leave Meta Knight behind on the Halberd, but failed...

As for the whole Pokemon Trainer thing, we thought that he looked so uncannily like Ash that we dubbed him so. Besides, it's easier to say "Ash" than:

"Yo, Pokemon Trainer!"  
"Pokemon Trainer, can you give us a hand?"  
"Hey, Pokemon Trainer, your pants are on fire."

That's really Red from the original games? Gawd, we forgot what he looked like...

- alex and sam

Date posted: 3/21/08, 12:31 a.m.


	3. Chores: PT 1

Everybody's favorite thing in the world is chores. Let's see how we can divide up every single one on the Halberd among thirty-five _Brawl_ characters.

**Math Problem of the Day**

35 _Brawl_ characters ÷ 18 chores = ?

Read on and find out the answer!

This chapter is dedicated to our friend Allison, who kicks all your butts at DDR and being totally awesome.

**Side note**: For this chapter only at each divider we set words in bold that either describe who you're following in the story or where that particular event is taking place in the story. Just to make it a bit easy, since it's so long. That is all.

* * *

**Morning Mayhem**

Sniff.

Link twitched in his bed. The blanket was drawn tight over him on the top bunk. You see, the night before both Links had had a furious, silent debate—with much threatening and rude hand gestures being ensued—over who got the top bunk. Toon Link got the bottom bed in the end, for in the words of his older counter-part: "Me, top dog. You, underdog. Me, top bed. You, under my bed. End of discussion."

Thus, life was good.

A warm smell crept under the locked door of their shared room. Link cracked open an eye lazily. "Food?" He glanced at the clock on the wall, shaped into the likeliness of a TriForce. It read 7:30 a.m.

Groaning, the older Link grudgingly sat up and sniffed the air hopefully. Something of the wolf he had been before he signed on with _Brawl _still lingered. Thus, he had superhuman sense of smell!

Without wasting a second he sprang off the bed and crashed onto the floor with an ear-splitting _THUD_. On the bed beside him Toon Link was still sleeping (How did he sleep through that racket?).

"Dude, food! Wake up! UP AN' AT 'EM!" Link shouted into Toon Link's ear. Toon Link jumped up and smacked his head on the top bunk before falling onto the floor with a whimper.

"What's WRONG with you?" he hissed, curling up in the fetal position. "It's too early to be up. You're insane... Falco hasn't even started squawking yet, which means that all good little children should be sleeping in. Good night."

With that said, Toon Link began to half-drag, half-crawl back in the direction of his own bed like some deformed inch worm.

"Since you're not a 'good little child' then you should be awake. Sniff the air!" Link offered.

Toon Link glared at him suspiciously. "What did you do, let one rip? I'm not smelling _that_!"

The other Link turned scarlet in the face. "No, you idiot!" he snapped edgily. (Link hasn't had his coffee yet. He's needs caffeine to function properly.) "It's...like this _wonderful_ smell. Like some sort of pastry, all fluffy and light and..."

Now succeeding in dragging himself back into bed, Toon Link cracked open an eye and rolled it with exasperation. "You were dreaming. Besides, this flying metal death trap wouldn't smell like a bakery. More like poison, or—or whatever else Meta Knight keeps on this thing..." He yawned pointedly and curled up in a ball (fluffy green pajamas and all!).

Link jumped to his feet and grabbed Toon Link by the shirt collar. Swinging him around ("I'm getting dizzy!"), Link shoved him face first against the door.

"Sniff!"

"No!"

"Sniff it!"

"NO!"

Link sighed. "Fine," he growled, dropping the younger version so that he hit the floor. Hard.

"Oww!" Toon Link wailed, clutching his left knee. "I think you dislodged it or something..." Taking deep breaths, he snarled, "I'm telling Zelda what you did and—what?" He had finally breathed in whatever Link had scented with his canine-like senses, and a dawning look of comprehension flooded his round face. "Do you smell that?"

Link slapped a hand over his forehead. "Yes," he groaned, "that's what I've been trying to _tell_ you!"

"What are we waiting for then?" Toon Link gasped. "Let's go!"

He jumped to his feet at once, all pain in his left knee forgotten, and quite promptly rammed into the still-shut door. Dazed, he stumbled back a few steps and fell over again with another ringing bang.

"You dolt... Try _opening_ the door next time. It's that dungeon thing all over again, I swear... You get used to just walking up and having the key magically unlock it for you and then break..." Swearing profusely with his Meta Knight-free moment, Link unlocked the door with a loud click and pried it open. It transpired that both Links were not the only two awoken by the smell of food cooking.

Lucario had poked his head out his own room, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Unlike both Links' identical green pajamas, the Aura Pokémon was simply wearing rather fluffy pink bunny slippers with ears and tail to boot! Toon Link sniggered openly.

"Nice slippers, Lucario," he joked, walking out of the room with his older counter-part in tow.

Lucario glared. "They were a gift!" he gasped indignantly, hands on his hips and tail lashing.

Link waved a hand breezily. "Ease up," he yawned, stretching; "it was only a joke..."

"You guys smelled it too?" a new voice asked.

All three glanced over their shoulders to see Samus closing the door to her room behind her. Suit off, she was wearing instead dark, baggy-looking navy-blue lounge pants and a formfitting pale t-shirt. Hair pulled back in a classic ponytail, she waved.

"Yeah, I woke up thinking Marth had started a fire in our room and I realized it was coming from outside." Lucario shrugged. "What drew you outside?"

"The explosion from both Links' room," Samus answered. "It sounded like somebody had crashed the Halberd trying to land it on a pointy mountaintop while they were drunk."

Toon Link grinned sheepishly, mumbling, "Sorry, but..." He shot Link and accusatory glare that practically screamed HE DID IT.

Link smiled, a dreamy look flitting over his face. "Something wonderful," he breathed happily, and Toon Link took several frightened steps against the wall. "I smelled all of this, I dunno—like—food, as if somebody had chucked a Party Ball in an oven and all the gross, high calorie stuff inside was cooking. It was sortta flaky"— he made vivid, wild hand gestures —"but more like a pastry, and I thought I got a whiff of sausage, or some kind of meat—"

"You can smell all of THAT?" Samus asked incredulously, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "You can tell all of that from just catching a bit of whatever the hell that is from your _room_?"

"It's his freaky dog thing!" Toon Link yelped dramatically, pointing. "Ever since he got to turn into that wolf by that black imp thing all his senses got heightened and stuff. It's...it's just so wrong! It's not normal!"

Samus and Lucario both tilted their heads to the left.

Link narrowed his eyes, instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword, forgetting that he had left it on his dresser in his haste to eat. "Why you little—" He stopped and took a skip forward, sniffing the air hopefully. "I smell fruit!" he sang. (If you have ever watched _Bambi_, think of the term "Twitter pated.") "Fruit and sizzling meats and baking pastries! COME!" Link beckoned imperiously, skipping around the corner and out of sight.

"He's _doing it again_..." Toon Link whined, making a face.

Samus scowled. "Can't you two just lay off each other—?"

"HEY!" Mario poked his head out of the room a few doors down, narrowing his eyes. "What are you doing, making all that noise? I wake up hearing the words 'dog' and 'food' being practically yelled in my ear. Don't you consider other people? Jeez."

Lucario and Samus both pointed at Toon Link. The green-capped mini rolled his eyes. "Whoop-dee-doo, it's that old Chinese proverb again: _'Everything goes back to Toon Link.'"_

Mario snorted with laughter. "What's up?" he asked in a more good-natured way than previously, shutting the door behind him with a quiet creak. The Italian plumber donned red-blue, -striped gingham pants and matching nightshirt with a large coffee stain on the front, and something red that could have been blood (or ketchup, that lazy slob). But of course, the most VITAL ASSET: His famous M-logo hat. He never went anywhere without his hat.

"The other Link smelled something and went to investigate." Lucario yawned, revealing sharpened teeth that he regularly filed. He stared curiously at the hat on top of Mario's hair and gave a cough. "Don't you every take that thing off—"

"NO!" Mario burst out so quickly that Samus, Toon Link and Lucario jumped. "I mean—um, no, I don't..." He shifted his trademark logo now known world-wide in over six different continents.

There followed a long, awkward silence, only broken when Link's head reappeared around the corner. He jabbed at his chest before saying, "You! Me! Kitchen! NOW!" and vanished again. They could distinctly hear him tapping his foot.

Samus gave a feeble sigh. "It seems we have no choice, and hey, I'm already up." She jerked her arms to her sides and swayed them in timing to her footsteps, half-walking down the hall, half-skipping. "C'mon!"

Mario went after with a mutter that sounded like "Why me?" As Toon Link made to follow the group he saw Lucario's gaze fixed after Samus, following her until she rounded the corner with Mario. His face split into an evil grin.

"Sorry, Lucario, buddy," he sang as he walked past, "but trans-species relationships don't work out too well..."

For a moment the Aura Pokémon looked dumbfounded, his mouth gaping open in a comical O shape as if he had been slammed. "How dare you!" he snarled after a moment of quick thinking, bounding after Toon Link with a flustered expression. "I'd never—you little git—"

"Checking out women now, eh, Lucario?" His malevolent grin didn't vanish as he chuckled darkly. "_Chozo_ women? Not a bad choice, mi amigo. I guess female Pokémon are kind of ugly. But don't worry; your secret's safe with me..."

"I have no secrets!" Lucario protested haughtily, lashing his long, spiked tail. "I was...I was just..." But unable to come up with a defense for himself, he simply fell into an embarrassed and fervent silence. Toon Link skipped along at Lucario's side as they rounded the same corner, following the other three ahead rather by sound than sight. Their footfalls heavily rang over the metallic flooring.

Whistling merrily, the younger Link flashed Lucario a cheeky grin. "Wait till I tell Samus you were checking out her ass—"

* * *

**Meanwhile**

"...so whatever Meta Knight has planned for us today has to be hell, right?" Mario said casually, walking alongside Samus and Link. Link was now pausing at regular intervals to sniff the air and floor like a bloodhound, leading them down random corridors with brief, punctuating statements such as : "This way!" or "I know it's here _somewhere_!"

Due to the Halberd's vast size they had gotten lost.

Before Samus could answer there was an ear-splitting BANG! like a cannon being blasted off (or twelve cannons). The noise seemed confined to their section of the ship, however, so the three highly doubted that any other of the slumbering _Brawl_ characters would have heard it.

"What the heck was that?" Link explained, his eyes widening like full moons. "It sounded like a fight! Let's go help them out—"

"Oh, no," Samus snapped, catching Link by the shirt collar as he tried to brush past. "You two: STAY HERE. I'll go check on whatever that was." Snorting, she backtracked with a clear: "More fighting _this early _in the morning?" being heard over her departing shoulder. Carefully she edged along the walls.

"Damn," she cursed, "the one time I forget to wear my suit... Okay." Samus padded around the corner to confront the loud noises. "Whoever it is better have some sense to—to..." Speechless, Samus gaped at the scene that had magically unfolded before her bed-rested eyes:

Lucario had wrestled Toon Link into a headlock and was attempting to strangle him, while Toon Link was mere inches away from the Pokémon's arm, about to sink his teeth in what was clearly a bite. Something about the scene reminded her about a nature video she had seen on Animal Planet, where a trapped coyote had tried to gnaw its leg off. Samus blinked.

"Am I interrupting something here?" she asked cautiously, backing up a step.

"Yes!" "No!" came both replies at once. Lucario and Toon Link glared at each other.

"What is it, Samus?" Link's voice called from down the opposite hallway.

"Uhh... Nothing." Samus, disgusted, turned around with an answering yell: "Just two morons ducking it out."

"Ooh! Which morons?" came Mario's echoing voice.

"Lucario and Toon Link! Now pick up the pace," said Samus with an air of disdain before heading backward again.

Grudgingly Lucario released his hostage, looking mutinous and disappointed.

"I'll catch you when there's no Samus to save your skin," Lucario threatened as he stalked past.

"You mean your _girlfriend_?" Toon Link wolf-whistled.

Lucario's death glare sent Toon Link scampering after Samus, Link and Mario. Satisfied, the Aura Pokémon trotted after him to find the group now assembled between the kitchen and conference room doors, having finally found the way. There was a welcome mat on the ground with a very hellish smile that could make babies cry. Link was bent onto both knees and sniffing the door crack enthusiastically.

"This is it!" he cried with triumph, standing up. "Prepare to meet FOOD!" Saying this, he pushed open the kitchen doors and came to an abrupt halt with the effect of everybody bumping into him from behind.

"Whoa."

"Holy mamma mia..."

"..."

"How does somebody say '...', anyway?"

But nobody answered Samus, as they were too mesmerized by the heaping wallop of breakfast buffet to answer. Stacked on the icy gray-blue tiled counter was a huge assortment of pitchers, bowls, dishes, silverware and food. Food. FOOD!

"Dude, I think I just died, because this is Heaven," whispered Toon Link.

"Its glory is so awe-inspiring," Link gasped, basking in the presence of the food.

"I think I just went blind," said a very confused Mario.

"But how?" Lucario asked, being the voice of reason. He was the only one unfazed by the holiness of the food mountain.

Link's nose twitched.

Sniff.

Link spun on his heels and walked around the counter to see a very familiar, round, pink person. "KIRBY?"

Yes, it's everybody's second favorite Star Warrior (Meta Knight beat him in the polls), wearing a long, white chef's cap and white apron, flipper in one hand and a frying pan in the other held precariously above a burning stove. Apparently multi-tasking was one of Kirby's hidden skills, because the pink puffball was not only preparing the eggs at the same time, but still somehow flipping pancakes with his other hand.

"What is it, Link—?" Samus began to say as she appeared at his side, but trailed off rather into a weak, stunned fatigue at the sight of Kirby. "Oh my..."

Mario, Toon Link and Lucario all appeared behind the others with surprised looks.

"Look," Lucario pointed out rather unnecessarily, raising a trembling hand, "he's actually making the food and not eating it..."

"My Heaven just became hell, and hell has frozen over," Toon Link mumbled, gawking.

"How is this stunning miracle possible?" Samus breathed, asking no one in particular.

"I made it possible!" came a rather forceful, cheery voice from behind them. The group jumped as one, coming face-to-face with Meta Knight. The Star Warrior looked tired but highly pleased.

Link poked Meta Knight on the mask, as if this was all an incredibly realistic dream.

"Hell just dropped ten degrees. Meta Knight's happy, and Meta Knight is _never_ happy..." Toon Link whispered. Bending lower, Link peered into Meta Knight's yellow eyes with a Sherlock Holmes look to his pointed face. "It looks like our dictator, but it's simply too happy to be him."

This was an understatement. The "happiness" on Meta Knight's face moments ago had been melted off into a scowl.

Link grabbed him by the cloak and shook him violently. "What have you done to our Meta Knight?" he screamed loudly, shaking the cloak-wearing knight back and forth with extreme speed. Meta Knight didn't react instantly, but rather remained limp and looked even more pissed off.

"Oh, wait—there we go, he looks miserable again..." Mario said calmly, slapping Link's wrists off of the Star Warrior.

"What has our great leader accomplished to make him so joyous that it's actually frightening?" Toon Link asked obnoxiously, while Lucario and Samus both slapped hands over their faces in the background.

Meta Knight took an appropriate step back and dusted himself off. "I suppose you've noticed that Kirby is restraining himself from devouring the kitchen, fridge and all," he explained, taking a deep, calming breath so that he wouldn't start beating them all around the head with Galaxia.

Many "oh's" followed this comment.

To answer the "how" part, Meta knight reached into his cloak and took out two things: a spatula with a bite mark in it, and a Smash Ball.

"See the beauty of it all?" he asked them in a rather haughty, smug voice.

Samus scratched the back of her head. "Honestly, no."

Meta Knight sighed in exasperation. "His Final Smash is his cooking form. Think!"

After this silence they all rubbed their chins in a look of strained contemplation, but no one seemed to get it. And now, we ask you, the readers, if you understand how this great level of achievement was obtained?

Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think ThinkThink Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think Think

Okay, are you done thinking now? Because Lucario figured it out, even if you guys didn't.

"He ate the Smash Ball and spatula, turned into his cooking version and due to his tiny brain's thinking capacity he was only able to focus on the sole task of preparing the food rather than eating it," Lucario answered without taking breath in what was possibly the second-greatest run-on sentence ever devised.

Meta Knight nodded, making the usual clicky sound his armor always made whenever he moved. "Exactly."

"So Kirby can't think of _anything_?" Mario asked in disbelief. As if to test this theory, he took a hand and waved it in front of Kirby's face (Kirby was now using an egg beater). The Star Warrior didn't react in the slightest.

"Oh, he can _think_, he's just too preoccupied to care or really notice," Meta Knight replied. To help a very dumbfounded-looking Link, Toon Link and Mario understand, he added: "You could set him on fire and he wouldn't give it a second thought."

"Really?" Both Links exchanged looks of twin delight.

"Try it, though, and you might end up as what we're serving for breakfast," Meta Knight added threateningly.

After a few seconds of mortified silence Samus spoke: "How the heck did you coax him to eat both?"

"Well, originally I was going to cook, it being the first day"— ("I'm glad he didn't," whispered Mario, "he might have tried to poison the food...") —"and Kirby, like you guys, was attracted by the smell and came down to the kitchen, attempting to eat everything. So I came up with this clever little plan; and while he was trying to suck up a nearby chair I threw both in his mouth."

Lucario gave an impressed look. "That was brilliant of you," he stated bluntly.

"I was successful both times," Meta Knight added cheerfully, as if an afterthought.

"What was the second time?" Samus yawned.

The warrior gave them a vicious look. "You five."

"Us?" they all echoed.

"Yes, you," he snapped. "Now that you're here you may as well help."

Link suddenly yawned. "Oh, look at the time, breakfast isn't for nearly another forty-five minutes or so. Here, you guys can go cook and I'll go rest my eyes—See ya!"

The Ordon adolescent made a dive for the open door, but, sadly, Lucario had stuck out his foot and tripped him. With several loud crashes Link hit the counter head-long, and in doing so knocked over a precariously balanced jug of apple juice, which crashed over his head. Clear-colored and round, Link looked as though he had a fish bowl stuck to his head. He might have been a long-lost cousin of Olimar's.

"Get me out of here!" he cried in an odd-ringing, muffled sort of voice, while he worked fervently to yank it off his head. Kirby scowled angrily. The puffball didn't appreciate his cooking being ruined...

"STOP IT! STOP MAULING ME, YOU—OWW!" Evidently, Kirby had taken it as a personal insult and started beating the crap out of Link.

"Kirby, get back to work!" Meta Knight called. "It doesn't take a lot of effort to pour juice."

Glowering at Link, Kirby stomped back over to the stove and began flipping flapjacks. Samus, meanwhile, began to laugh hysterically at Link, who now had bruises all over him.

"Tell you what," she winked (Lucario fidgeted slightly), "you help us set the table, and I'll get that thing off in a few minutes..."

Link made a very rude hand gesture at her. "I hate you all," he sobbed, grudgingly picking himself up off the floor and wincing. "Man, Kirby can pack a punch..."

And so, for the next forty-some, uneventful minutes they took food out into the long-tabled conference room, setting up plates, cups, and generally bring out the smorgasbords of yummies.

At about 8:20 a.m., Zelda, Peach and Pit had awoken and entered the conference room, their sleepy faces popping with amazement as Toon Link carried out sausages.

Hallelujah music began playing in the background. It was Pit's theme song! _Obviously._

Everyone glanced at Pit.

"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly, grinning, "I hate it when that happens..." He snapped his fingers and the music died down almost instantly. He pointed accusingly at Mario.

"You could have woken me up!"

"You were asleep, so why should I have bothered you?" Mario pointed out reasonably.

Pit grinned.

"Who made all of this food?" Peach wondered aloud, beaming around at the tabletop.

**A/N**: Oh, wait, we've gotta stop and tell you guys everything Kirby managed to cook: sausages, pancakes, waffles, assorted fruits, ham, bagels, biscuits, kipper, eggs (scrambled, hard-boiled, and omelets), toast, oatmeal, porridge, a loaf of bread, and in the center of the table four massive jugs, loaded with orange juice, apple juice, milk and lemonade.

Kirby, who was now coming into the room with a tea tray (Meta Knight opened his mouth to say something and thought better of it), paused beside Peach to offer her a cup.

"Poyo!"

"Aww!" Peach squealed, accepting a cup. Mario gave a snort and looked away. "You did all of this? For _us_? That's so _sweet_! And you look adorable with the hat; it really complements your eyes..."

Zelda rolled her eyes in a good-humored way and agreed (though with a less sugary voice), "Thank you, Chef Kirby."

Kirby beamed at them both and saluted with a very solemn nod. "Poyo."

Link had to stuff a napkin in his mouth to stop himself from giggling. Toon Link, grinning from ear-to-ear, called over breezily, "You guys forgot to thank _Meta Knight_! He was the one who started this little gig, after all."

Putting on a slavish look, he turned in his seat to face the Star Warrior at the other end of the table. _"Did you help with making da food, twoo?"_ he said in a mock-baby voice.

Toon Link's hat sailed off his head as Galaxia caught it on tenterhooks, pinning it to the wall behind him by the tip.

Meta Knight gave Toon Link a look that scorched. "Want to run that by me again?"

Unable to stop himself, Link began to howl with laughter and pound his fists on the table. Samus shot him a dirty look from across the table. So it wasn't surprising when a few seconds later Link's eyes screwed up and he doubled-over, wailing.

"Who aimed the kick?" Pit asked with the general air of one commenting on the weather.

Samus smirked.

"Ah," came a noise of understanding from Zelda, looking appreciative, as she, Pit and Peach all took their seats. "Nice aim..."

"I won't baby-talk you, dude," Pit informed Meta Knight, looking anxious. "Though I could curtsey for you, if you wanted..."

He, too, then let out a yelp and knelt over in his chair. Mario's eyes watered with restrained laughter as Peach gave him a warning look.

"That one was mine," the Mushroom Kingdom's princess answered to the many bewildered looks. Nods of understanding followed this statement.

"Can we eat now?" Lucario asked mildly.

"No," Meta Knight answered curtly. "We'll wait for everybody else to join us."

Their discussion subsided into silence, mainly due to the fact that Toon Link and Pit were both rendered silent by the kicks they had received. It was revived fairly quickly, however, as four new voices floated through the door:

"Can't you guys just forgive me already? I said I was sorry, like, a million times!"

The door to the conference room burst open as Ike and Marth slouched in, followed by Olimar, his loyal Pikmin trailing after him. A few seconds later Ash's head peeked around the door frame.

After yesterday's "mishap" the four victims of the fatale Revives had turned cold-shoulders to Ash. Yoshi was still asleep. The other three, however, displayed the marks of their casualties from the previous evening:

Because Oilmar's eyes had not quite returned to their natural color he was wearing a pair of sunglasses in the helmet. What eye color his eyes had turned, you may ask? Well, nobody really knew, as we think it was the undiscovered thirteenth color on the color wheel. Ike's tongue, however, had turned a vivid orange color. Thus, he had been forced to suck on a cherry icicle pop for four hours before it looked red enough to be deemed normal.

Marth, however, looked perfectly unharmed. This struck them all as odd, as Marth's face had erupted into painful, angry-looking purple blisters.

Marth was still speaking edgily over his shoulder to Ash, however, oblivious to the other ten _Brawl_ characters sharing the same room: "—I had to put on _twenty pounds _of makeup before I could finally clear up that stupid rash your toxic medicine gave me!"

Mario made a face. "It looks fine to me."

"Of course it does," Marth snapped. "I stole Peach's makeup to put my beautiful face right and—"

"YOU DID WHAT?" Peach hissed, her eyes narrowing to a vicious cat-likeness that made the Lowell prince freeze.

"I...mean, that I...borrowed it...without asking," Marth answered evasively, taking a seat opposite of Toon Link (now fully recovered).

Peach flushed a red-pink color on her face. "You had _no right_," she snarled at him. "Meta Knight!" she cried, "didn't you say there was a rule or something about that...?"

The Star Warrior shrugged. "Did I say that?" he asked casually, not bothering to look up. "No, I said no one was really allowed to camp out together except for roommates; there's no rule about going off into another person's room and ransacking their stuff."

Peach gave a thunderous yell that made them all jump: "WHAT?"

Meta Knight plowed on. "I wouldn't be able to tell you, anyway. My book went missing..."

"Who'd steal _that_ piece of CRAP?" Olimar asked nobody in particular.

Before somebody could kick him, however, two more voices joined theirs, answering Olimar's question: "...No, Fox, I don't _want_ to hear rule number five hundred and seventy-eight!"

"But, Falco!" Fox's insistent voice whined. "This one's cool! There's a part two for what to do if someone has a heart attack while juggling flaming upside down cakes! And _here_ it says that you're not allowed to look at internet porn after eight p.m.! Weird, huh? And _here_ it says that—"

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Falco roared as he stomped into the conference room and threw himself into the chair beside Peach. "Help me!" he sobbed dryly. "Fox has been keeping me up since three a.m. reading out of that stupid text book!"

"They're not—well, at least the book isn't boring!" Fox said hotly, following after him. The ginger-furred Star Fox trooper took the seat on Toon Link's right and threw the dusty volume onto the tabletop, causing all the dishes to rattle.

"Oh." Meta Knight starred at his rule book. "That's where it went."

"Yep," Fox stretched, "I borrowed it for some bedtime reading. Gawd, what's up with some of these rules, anyway?" he demanded, flipping through the pages. "Rule number two hundred and forty-four's just not right. It says: 'Under no circumstances shall open heart surgery be performed inside the Halberd, outside the Halberd, or on top of the Halberd.'"

Ash and Ike began to chuckle appreciatively as Meta Knight pulled his cloak up around him more tightly. "It's simple: Every rule has a reason. Every reason has a rule. And both correspond with having happened and forcing me to record such atrocities."

"So someone really _did_ die of a heart attack while juggling flaming upside down cakes?" Zelda blurted out, nonplused.

"Yes," Meta Knight replied coolly. "That was little Jimmy's brother, big Al."

Nobody spoke until DK, Diddy, Sonic, Snake and Wolf entered the kitchen next, still wearing their pajamas.

"Cool," the cardboard box said sleepily, taking a seat near the more vacant end of the table.

Diddy rolled his eyes.

"Nobody's going to assassinate you during breakfast, Snake," the monkey squeaked. (He does have a kind of squeaky, shrieking voice, doesn't he?) "You can come out now."

"No."

Samus and Mario swapped exasperated looks but didn't say anything.

Meanwhile Wolf had taken the nearest spoon into his hand.

"We're not eating yet," Ash warned.

"It's not for eating," Wolf answered, comparing the sharpness of his fork and knife now.

"Then WHAT?" Ike asked nervously, suddenly getting an idea. "If it's for suicide, then I'd go with the knife, personally..."

"No suicide at the table," Meta Knight growled. "Take it outside."

"I'm not suicidal!" Wolf grizzled, putting his knife down and deciding on his spoon. With all eyes fixed upon him he then proceeded to use the poor spoon as a backscratcher.

Peach twitched. "Please don't do that. It's so _vile_!" Apparently, using silverware as a backscratcher was also punishable by law in the Mushroom Kingdom.

Wolf continued to rub himself ferociously with his spoon. "I woke up this morning feeling like something was _biting_ me..."

Lucario raised a brow. "What, is it a skin problem?"

In spite of himself, Wolf sneered mockingly. "I didn't get sprayed with a Pokémon Revive last night, so no, I doubt it's that."

Ash gave a despairing, glum sigh and smacked his head into the table as Pit had done the previous day. "Why—can't—you—guys—just—drop—it?"

An thought suddenly came to Olimar. "Aren't you going to let your Pokémon out to eat?"

Ash looked up. "Why would I do that?"

Lucario bristled angrily. "You can't starve them!" he growled, his fists suddenly blazing with a blue, flaming aura.

"I don't," Ash answered breezily. "I feed them—about once a month..."

Under the quelling, indignant look Lucario was giving him (the same one he had given Toon Link) Ash reluctantly took out his three Poké Balls.

"Go!"

Out came Charizard, Ivysaur and Squirtle, each landing in an unoccupied chair except for Squirtle, who had the misfortune of landing with one foot in the apple juice jug.

Kirby glared at Squirtle with deepest loathing. He still was wearing his apron and chef's hat.

"Eww," Link grimaced, as Squirtle removed his pudgy foot out of the apple juice. "I am not drinking that now... It's Squirtle juice, not apple juice."

The Tiny Turtle Pokémon looked highly insulted as he waddled back into the seat on Ivysaur's left. Ash frowned.

"Hey, man, if you insult my Pokémon you're insulting me..."

"Really?" Link brightened up. "Well, then, Charizard—you're fat. Ivysaur—you're ugly."

Trainer and Pokémon alike gave him menacing looks from across the table.

"Charizard," Ash yelled, making everybody jump, "use Flamethrower!"

However, in his angered state Charizard's aim was notoriously poor, and thus he set the ham on fire instead.

Kirby looked delighted. "Kirby!" Kirby cried, pointing at the ham, which was now sizzling and cooking, setting off tiny sparks.

For five minutes everyone "ooohed" and "aaahed" as if they were at a fireworks display. Only when the ham was put out did Snake notice through the eye holes in his cardboard box that DK was writing something.

"Hey, DK, what's that?"

DK didn't answer, but instead took the piece of duct tape he had been writing on with a sharpie marker and held it up to the light. Satisfied with something, the ape merely shrugged and put the label on the apple juice pitcher: _Squirtle juice — highly toxic_.

Everybody except Ash, Meta Knight and the Pokémon joined in the laughter. Gradually the conference room filled up with last-minutes stragglers: Mr. Game and Watch and R.O.B., Sonic, Ness and Lucas, Captain Falcon and Jigglypuff, Pikachu and the Ice Climbers, and finally Yoshi and Luigi. Yoshi's side effects included a darker shade of green for his skin. The dinosaur greeted everybody except Ash enthusiastically; instead, he gave him an annoyed look and took the seat farthest from an overly-apologetic Ash.

"Can we eat NOW?" Pit begged. "I swear to God, that ham is mocking me."

Meta Knight waved his hands. "Dig in."

Everybody responded by helping themselves to the food eagerly, loading up their plates with content smiles. Happy, well-fed _Brawl_ characters meant non-violent _Brawl _characters.

Kirby had meanwhile stood up and taken the tray of sausages into his hands, walking around to allow everybody dibs at the breakfast meat.

Popo, munching on a biscuit, was the first one to notice that Kirby's apron had something scribbled on it. "Hey," he called down to Peach, who was currently be served by the minute Star Warrior. "What's that on the apron he's wearing?"

Peach blinked in surprise. "I don't know," she answered curiously, accepting a sausage link from Kirby. Glancing down she realized what the text said: "'Kiss the cook.'" Below it, a print of Kirby's face. There was a ™ after the sentence, so she assumed that it meant "trademark." Apparently Kirby had gone and got a copyright for his signature so it couldn't be stolen by some rival gaming company or cheap Kirby-con artists.

Peach clasped her hands together. "That's so cute! Oh, thank you, Kirby!" Jealously watched by Mario, Peach pecked Kirby on the forehead. The tiny kiss left a lipstick imprint like something your grandmother might have done after smooching. Kirby gave a delighted cry and proceeded around the table, this time approaching Zelda's side (meanwhile, watched by Pikachu, Ness and Diddy).

"Thanks," Zelda beamed, taking a piece and imitating Peach. Link, who had been in an animated discussion with Mr. Game and Watch over _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_, raised his milk glass to his lips when he noticed the Hyrullian princess's transaction. The cup in his hand broke and shattered, sending glass scattering over the tabletop.

R.O.B. didn't react as it hit his metallic face and clunked off. "Oww."

Meanwhile, Snake, who had been coaxed out of his cardboard box by Popo and Nana, gave a shrill, girlish scream as a few pieces came down his end of the table.

"ASSASSINATION!" he screamed, and before anyone could protest he dove back into the box he seemingly pulled out of thin air.

"Jeez!" Toon Link scoffed, wiping milk and glass out of his hair. "Firm grip, I see..."

Link seethed. "That obnoxious puffball..." he hissed in a fierce undertone.

Ike, feeling a tug on his pajama sleeve, looked around his waist until his eyes met Kirby's. Kirby raised the tray for Ike to take a sausage. "Thanks," he yawned as he carelessly took a sausage from the platter. Kirby didn't move away, however, but continued to peer at Ike expectantly.

"Huh? No, thanks, I don't want anymore."

Kirby didn't even blink. It was really starting to creep Ike out...

"Why can't you go serve someone else? Go, shoo!"

Kirby eyed him beadily.

"Why won't you _leave_?" seethed Ike, looking disdainful and slightly terrified. "What do you want? A tip?"

"Read the apron, genius," Sonic sniggered.

Intrigued, the blue-haired swordsman bent his head slightly to read the text sprawled across.

Kiss the cook. ™

"Like hell I would," Ike snorted, taking his spoon and scooping a large mouthful of porridge into his mouth until his cheeks reached exploding point. "Why de 'ell 'ood I oow 'at?" It was amazing they could understand him at all with all that food crammed in his bulging, hamster-like mouth.

Kirby's eyes began to water.

"Hey, Mr. Sensitivity," R.O.B. growled, "show a bit more compassion."

Ike raised a keen brow. "Why?" He swallowed his breakfast and prepared to take another spoonful. "It's not like I'm in his debt or anything..."

"He made you breakfast!" Lucas pointed out quietly.

Ike shrugged. "Everybody has to make it at some point..."

"Want a better reason?" Captain Falcon called down the table.

"Like what?"

The captain pointed at Kirby.

Surprised, Ike reluctantly turned his head once more. Kirby's large, friendly face was now screwed up with sticky tears that gathered in the corner of his eyes, ready to spill down his protuberant face. His mouth was open in a tiny oval shape, and he was making an odd, spastic sniffling noise that sounded like a kinder gardener about to have an asthma attack. Ike inched his chair a few feet away, bumping elbows with Falco.

"Is he gonna start crying—"

Kirby let out a pitiful sobbing noise that turned heads in their direction.

"Ike!" Ness cried, looking sullen-faced. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Ike began to protest. "He's just blubbering!"

Kirby let out a louder cry that attracted to him many looks of concern like some human pity-magnet.

Jigglypuff glowered at Ike with ultimate dislike. "Jiggly! Jiggly, jig, puff!"

Lucario translated: "She said that you're being an asshole."

Ike gave an indifferent yawn, looking unfazed underneath their gilded glares. "That's what my parents said, but do you see me looking concerned? No. Hey," he said to Kirby, "you're giving me a headache, Pinky!" He then lowered his right hand and flicked Kirby on the face lightly.

Kirby's eyes widened to exploding capacity, in danger of falling out of their sockets.

Meta Knight frowned at him with a warning look. "You really shouldn't have done that."

"Why? Is he gonna—"

Screwing up his face, Kirby gave a heart-wrenching, ear-splitting wail that shattered almost all of the cups along the table. Everybody clapped their hands over their ears as one. The noise was so deafening that Luigi actually toppled out of his seat. Even Lucario's Future Sight attack couldn't have foreseen this coming.

"Make it stop, make it STOP!" Pit begged.

Wolf dug his claws into his highly sensitive canine ears. "Can't you shut him off?" he howled.

Meta Knight winced. "I told you," he spat at Ike, who looked most in suffering, being directly next to Kirby.

"What is that, a built-in burglar alarm?" DK screeched.

Meta Knight gave a sarcastic, half-exasperated laugh. "Neglect is a _really_ _bad_ thing to give Kirby!" he yelled over the horrendous wailing.

"You IDIOT!" Nana snapped. "Kiss him and maybe he'll stop!"

"No!"

"YES!" the whole room bellowed back in unison.

"Nothing could make me touch that blob!" Ike snarled.

The volume of Kirby's insane crying increased, causing a crack to run diagonally across Olimar's helmet.

"Do it!" Samus snapped.

"NO!" Ike replied sniffily, propping his feet up on the table and crossing his arms.

"Just give him a peck on the head!" Meta Knight snapped. "And that's a direct order!"

"Said the four-foot tall knight," Marth screamed over the louder still outcries of Kirby.

Meta Knight narrowed his eyes threateningly. Reaching into his cloak, he took out a pair of earmuffs, which he then gloatingly put around his helmet. (Dude? WTF? How does that even help? He's wearing ARMOR!)

"Fine. I can wait, though sadly none of you can..."

More cups and glasses along the table exploded.

Fox, tearing at his head fur in a deranged sort of way, begged, "Just do it! PLEASE! Give him a _hug_ at least!"

Ike cracked open at eye. "Fine," he yelled waspishly, gingerly unfolding his arms.

Ike bent down next to the hysterical Star Warrior and nervously put his left arm around him and patted Kirby with his right hand on the forehead. "Umm... there, there..."

Kirby's shrieking dropped dramatically, though salty tears still trickled down his face. He sniffled heavily, as if he had a head cold.

Zelda glowered daggers at Ike. "Apologize!"

Ike gave her a look of mild indignant dislike. "I'm not surrendering my pride that easily..."

"I could beat it out of you, if you'd like," Mario suggested thoughtfully, scratching his chin. Beyond him, Peach beamed fondly. The plumber merely said this to get back in Peach's good books, but, hey, everybody likes violence. It was a win-win deal.

Kirby gave a snuffly cry and tugged at Ike's pajama sleeves. It was pathetic.

"Fine," Ike huffed, pulling a face as he turned to eye the Star Warrior.

Taking a deep breath, he muttered a very inaudible "sorry..."

"Didn't quite catch that." Captain Falcon grinned. "Try saying it a _whee_ bit louder..."

A vein throbbed on Ike's temple. "Don't go pushing my buttons..." he snarled. Kirby sniffled loudly. Yoshi and Falco looked scared.

"Pikaaaa!" Pikachu sang.

"Pikachu thinks you should say it more loudly," R.O.B. quoted, nodding.

Ike panted slightly, looking like a somewhat deranged dog with a mean temper and rabies. Barring his teeth, the blue-haired swordsman gave a great yelp: "Fine, fine, FINE! I'm SORRY! Happy?" His left eye had developed an unseemly twitch.

Everybody gave him a gaping, speculating look of appraisal. A few seconds of ringing silence followed these highly pronounced word before it was broken by a single word from Luigi: "Kirby."

"Kirby what?" Ike asked testily, glancing at the pink puffball. Kirby's watery space had split into a jubilant smile, and before Ike could say, "What the—?" Kirby pounced; quite literally, for the tiny Star Warrior sailed at Ike in an über glomp that knocked both to the floor.

The whole room responded with roaring laughter. Zelda gave a hearty laugh. "Aww, look, I think he forgives you..."

This was an overstatement. Kirby was now hugging Ike's legs like a drowning person to a life raft, making odd, cooing noises and purrs. Ike tried to kick Kirby off with his left foot.

"Get him off! The love—ack!—it _BURNS_! What _are_ you, some sort of mutant tick?"

Kirby drooled. Ike flinched.

Finally having scraped Kirby off, Ike dragged himself back into his chair with groans of pain."_Commoners..._" he muttered audibly over the gales of laughter.

Once the cruel sneers and fits of victorious mirth dropped in volume, Meta Knight drew their attention to him.

"Now that you've all been fed and I have your undivided attention—or most of your undivided attention," he hissed, watching out of the corner of his eyes Jigglypuff the Balloon Pokémon making quite a scene out of playing with her DS Lite.

He coughed.

Jigglypuff frowned and looked up. There was a loud crashing noise from her DS; presumably she was playing _Mario Kart_ _DS_ and had just crashed on a race course. Scowling, the pink Pokémon swelled slightly before disappearing behind her game once more, making a point to ignore Meta Knight.

"Ignoring that," Meta Knight said in a bored voice, "I now have of the utmost importance to discuss with you"— He reached into his cloak, quick as a flash and took out a scroll of rolled up parchment —"chores."

"It doesn't look like there are many," Yoshi voiced confidently.

Meta Knight took off the rubber-band holding it in its coil, and the list unfurled along the tabletop and rolled it out until it measured eight feet, eleven inches in length.

Yoshi's confident air dropped rather dramatically, along with Olimar's mouth.

"How long is it?" the captain asked weakly.

Meta Knight shrugged, unbothered. "I never really bothered to measure it."

Marth stood up. "This isn't liberty!" he bellowed. "We shouldn't have to do all these chores! Where's the democracy?"

"This isn't politics, Marth," Samus joked in a wry voice. "It's a dictatorship."

Many nodded their heads. Sonic raised a hand, making an obvious attempt at commentary: "Come on, it's...it's not so bad. I mean, look at some of these."

Gingerly, as if handling a dangerous time bomb, the hedgehog picked up the end and read from the bottom. "Let's see: cooking, washing clothes, take out the trash..." His voice faltered as he reached items of more sensitive nature on the list. Sonic looked up at Meta Knight, tutting. "No offense, but you have a sick sense of humor."

"Let me see!" demanded Pit as he clambered out of his chair to run next to Sonic. Peering over his shoulder, Pit's eyes widened more and more the farther he read. Finishing, the angel gave a disgusted snort and yelped, "Tyranny!"

Ash stretched, looking unconcerned and cool as always. "How bad it is...?"

"Clean the furnace!" Pit spat out venomously. "Water the plants! Poison all the rats in the air ducts and dust them out!"

Peach gave an alarmed, squealish laugh that ended rather quickly. "How's w-watering plants bad?" she stammered.

Pit scooped up the list in his left hand and thrust it into Peach's face. "There's a warning here that says CAUTION: Plants are highly toxic!" he yelled. "Is that NORMAL to you?"

Pikachu pounded its yellow fists on the table. "Pika!" he cried, sparks falling from his red cheeks.

Snake, who had been coaxed out of his box yet again by the Ice Climbers, gave a terrified whimper. "No," he hissed, "I'm going back to where things make sense."

But before he could get his box Popo and Nana grabbed him by the sleeves and thrust him into his chair. They didn't look very happy.

"Stay," Popo insisted. "No one is trying to assassinate—"

Before Popo could add, "—you," Snake had screamed, "ASSASSINATION!" broken free of his binds, and returned to cowering under his cardboard box. Both siblings gave groans of exasperation before slumping with their elbows on the table.

Toon Link had taken up to reading off more chores on the list: "—making the beds, clean the dishes, vacuum, and WASHING THOSE DAMNED WINDOWS." Toon Link made a face at Meta Knight. "You're evil, aren't you?"

Samus snapped. "It's not as if you babies haven't done work before," she called in a commanding voice to her fellow _Brawl_ characters. "You just saved the world; how hard is it going to be to fix up an old ship?"

Some of them began to mutter and shake their heads, while Ike made a pointed "umm".

Samus's hands dropped to her sides. "Don't tell me...that _none of you _have ever done a chore in your entire lives. Please don't tell me...or I may just...just have a heart attack or something."

Zelda shrugged. "Royal Family or not, we all chipped in back at Hyrule," she stated. "And did you think I spent seven years in hiding sunbathing in my past life? I was busy!"

Peach sighed. "I've done my fair share."

Pikachu scratched behind his ears. "Pik. Pikapi, pika chuuu."

"Jiggly!" Jigglypuff burst out, folding the DS screen down so she wouldn't crash again.

Charizard, Squirtle and Ivysaur exchanged awkward looks. "Charrr," the orange lizard grunted.

"Ivy. Ivysaur," agreed Ivysaur.

"Squirt, squirtle squirt."

"Pokémon don't do chores," Lucario grunted, making a spoon levitate with Psychic.

With a long breath Ash muttered something about "constant camping" and "nowhere near civilization." As all good Pokémon Trainers know: You want the badges, you gotta rough it in the wilderness.

Heads turned as the Kongs gave them ridiculed looks. "We're not primitive!" Diddy pointed out hotly, scowling.

"We can do chores 'n' stuff..." DK agreed, scratching the back of his head.

Fox, Falco and Wolf all took up similar conversations that were sympathetic in Meta Knight's favor: They had, after all, owned ships too.

Oilmar wasn't so quick to agree.

"Weeeeell. I have done chores, but I normally bunked with Pikmin, so I can definitely say that my experiences are...well...poor."

The Pikmin cheered and gave high-fives all around for no apparent reason whatsoever.

Ness and Lucas spoke before anyone could ask: "We did chores. Heck, we've even had to help rebuild our home on several occasions."

"Does saving the world count?" Pit asked nervously. "'Cause I've never done an honest day's work in my entire premature life."

Peach gave the angel a withering look. Pit shrank into his seat.

R.O.B. spoke up: "I was programmed for war and combat, not household luxuries."

Marth, normally so quick to give his opinion on any topic, had remained oddly quiet along with Ike. When the wave of discussion flooded down their end of the table, both swapped nervous looks.

Wolf raised a brow inquiringly. "Did the Lowell's ever get their kids to move their asses or what, Marth?" he inquired, not caring much for politeness or rudeness but rather liking being blunt.

Marth winced as he spoke, as if each word was cutting holes into his throat like extremely pointy glass: "Well...we didn't exactly do any—"

"Servants," Ike grunted. "And a constant wave of fan mail helped a lot. Never lifted a finger. Ever."

A tumbleweed bounded past the long table.

"You had servants?" Sonic gapped.

Again, the Lowell prince shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "To you it sounds like a lot, but for us, well, we were set for life—that was, until Nintendo sent us to this dump. Roy was lucky— he got kicked out after _Melee_."

Meta Knight pounded his fists on the table. "The Halberd is_ not_ a dump!" he snapped.

Luigi raised a hand. "Can I say something?"

When no objections came the green-clad plumber stood up and kicked the wall. A large sheet of the metal hull then peeled backward like a banana peel and left a streak of mud-brown iron-wrought hull, which clashed horribly with the ship's blue-gray metallic coating.

R.O.B. made a noise of polite incredulousness. "It's a dump, Meta Knight, you can't deny that."

Luigi sat back down with a proud smile.

Marth smirked. "I rest my case," he said, reaching for his glass (one of the few that hadn't been broken) and taking a dainty sip, pinky finger held out.

Meta Knight made a disbelieving noise like a whimper. "My ship..." he gawked.

"Well, it's broken now, buddy!" Ness stated in what he thought was a comforting older-brother tone of superiority/comfort.

Beneath his mask Meta Knight glowered tomato red. Taking a deep breath to control his temper, the Star Warrior retorted in a sing-song voice that was almost un-Meta Knight:"_And guess who gets to fix it?_"

Ness was cowed into stunned disbelief that was almost written across his face. Ignoring this, Meta Knight plowed on in a voice that suggested that had there been a full-scale riot he wouldn't have noticed even in the slightest.

"You two!" He pointed sharply at Sonic and Snake. Sonic had been half-asleep in his chair after speaking, and at the sound of his own name gave a start and fell onto the floor. Snake nervously peered out of his box.

"Yes?"

"You and Sonic... let me see."

Both of them gulped, wondering which chore Meta Knight would assign them.

"Ah, here's a good one," Meta Knight mumbled, consulting the list finally before turning to address his two victims. "Clean the windows."

"That shouldn't take long!" Snake struck a pose. "I mean, how many windows does this ship have anyway?"

"374.6 windows in counting."

Sonic fell out of his chair again from shock. Snake merely gaped like a dart-shot rhino, a rather ridiculous look as if somebody had slapped him and he couldn't quite believe it.

"How did you get .6?" Snake asked uncertainly, scratching his chin.

"It's the one you morons destroyed yesterday, so I counted it as a decimal." Meta Knight retorted.

"Oh."

Snake stared for a few seconds then slammed his fists on the table. "The windows on this ship are huge! Especially the one on the nose of the ship _shaped like your fat head!_" he protested. "How are we supposed to scrub them all in one day?"

Meta Knight shrugged. "That's not my problem, is it?" he asked unconcernedly as he continued to assign chores:

"Fox, Falco, clear the table and wash the dishes."

Both of them scowled angrily.

"Captain Falcon, water the plants."

Captain Falcon was trembling as if Meta Knight had just pronounced his death sentence to the gallows.

"Peach—you get to wash the clothes."

Somebody, and Peach had a shrewd idea who, whispered, "Hit her with your best shot—she will _succumb_ to the mountain of dirty laundry piling up in the hall closet..."

Toon Link snickered at Falco's statement, now trying to remember where he had put his two month old socks.

"Well," the dainty princess counseled herself, "I could have gotten worse. It's not_ so _bad..."

The knight with the list de doom added, as if an afterthought, "We're going to be rotating some of these chores. That includes cooking. Today I'll be doing the cooking, so that means tomorrow we'll have Jigglypuff do it."

Jigglypuff gave a squeak of happiness. However, no one else shared her enthusiasm. Behind her everyone in their seats had turned paper-white and wide-eyed; Link had even gone as far as the wave his hands in a "NO YOU IDIOT!" sort of way, making dramatic hand coordination. With a sad grimace Lucario mimed someone stirring a pot, eating the pot's contents, and dying rather suddenly with violent facial expressions and lots of suffocating.

Needles to say, Meta Knight got the gist.

"On second thought...Jigglypuff," Meta Knight said in a cautious voice. He prayed Pokémon couldn't smell fear, because Jigglypuff's victorious face was quickly turning into a glare. "Why don't you do permanent weekend cooking instead?"

Toon Link's eyes bugged and he pounded his fist into his palm.

"...and have someone_ help _you." Over Jigglypuff's head Meta Knight gave the other _Brawl_ characters a significant look.

Jigglypuff inflated slightly and looked positively livid with suspicion.

"...You know...just so you don't have to waste all your precious skills and tire yourself out."

The rest quickly cottoned on to the ploy and nodded in agreement. Pit made an obvious gesture of relief, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Moving on," Meta Knight glanced down, "Mario—Luigi—Pikachu: You guys get to clean the bathrooms."

All three of them groaned, and Mario looked highly offended.

"That's prejudice! Just because we're plumbers doesn't mean WE have to clean it!"

Meta Knight narrowed his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, Pikachu isn't a plumber and he has to clean it too. Now shut up. "

Though no more objections came the three still looked sulky.

"Pit, please gather the trash from the kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms and washing room, floor two of the Halberd, and dispose of it."

Pit gaped. "And where am I suppose to put it all?" he asked with both hands thrust onto his hips.

"That's not my problem. Now, who shall I give..." He nodded. "Great. Olimar, you get to vacuum."

Olimar shrugged slightly. "I'm fine with that," he agreed calmly.

Mr. Game and Watch, who had been thinking of speaking for a while now, had to add his statement. "Beep!" ("No offense, but how are you supposed to reach the vacuum?")

Olimar gave an uncharacteristic scowl, his eyes narrowing behind the black shades he donned. "You're not so tall yourself! And you're _two-dimensional_!"

"BEEP?" ("What's that supposed to mean?")

"How are you able to pick stuff up? You look like some guy's shadow."

"Beep." ("I do not.")

"Do too."

"Beep!" ("Do not!")

"Do too!"

"BEEP!" ("Do NOT!")

"Do TOO—"

"Knock it OFF, NOW!" Meta Knight snarled angrily. Captain and "two-dimensional shadow" glared at each other before settling down again.

Meta Knight narrowed his eyes. "Olimar's vacuuming, that's the end of it. Mr. Game and Watch, while we're at it I'll throw you on light bulb duty."

"Beep?" ("Light bulb duty?") echoed a very bemused Mr. Game and Watch.

"Yes, light bulb duty. By the end of today I want every light on this ship that flickers, doesn't turn on or has a crack on it replaced with these NEW florescent light bulbs." From underneath the table the knight pulled out a large box labeled DANGEROUS and slammed it on the tabletop.

Mr. Game and Watch's jaw dropped open.

DK grinned. "There's got to be more lights in this joint than windows, and that's saying something. Good luck," he snorted skeptically.

Link knelt down slightly and bent over to whisper to Toon Link, "Hey, maybe we'll get off easy..."

"Link! Toon Link!"

Both cracked their necks as they glanced up nervously at Meta Knight.

"Oww..." whined Toon Link. "I think I broke my neck; can I be excused from chores?"

"If you had broken your neck then you would be dead," Yoshi pointed out.

"No." Meta Knight studied them for a moment before declaring, "You guys get to clean out the air ducts and kill rats."

"WHAT?" Link barked, pounding his fist on the table. "I most certainly will not!"

"And what choice do you have in the matter?" Meta Knight growled."It's my ship, so damn it you'll do as I say. Besides, you two are the only ones skinny enough to fit."

"Are you calling me FAT?" Peach asked suddenly. It went very quiet.

Mario leaned in toward Meta Knight to whisper through gritted teeth, "Whatever you do, don't say 'fat ,' 'lard' or give any implications to who's skinny and who isn't. That girl's a pipe bomb waiting to bang."

That sounded very wrong. OH WELL.

Meta Knight apparently agreed with us because he flinched as if whipped. "Skimming over that detail," he replied in an airy, businesslike manner, "no, Peach," he called down the table, "I was not calling you—oww!"

Mario had elbowed him. "Don't say the f-a-t word... Please, don't..."

Deciding that the best solution was to ignore a very angry-looking Peach altogether, he said, as if nothing had happened, "Ice Climbers—Nana—Popo—I want you to go around and straighten up the bedrooms."

"What do we do?" they squeaked in unison.

"Make the beds, er, straighten up anything thrown on the floor, that kind of stuff. There's a shoot for dirty laundry at the very end of the hallway across from my room. Peach can wait for it."

"Does that mean I have to go into _guys'_ rooms?" "Does that mean I have to go into _girls'_ rooms?"_ "Ugh!"_ both of them said at the same time, making gagging noises.

DK crossed his arms and made a funny noise between amusement and anger. "We're not all disgusting slobs," the ape pointed out, staring pointedly at Link and Toon Link, who both stared uncertainly back.

"..."

"Was he insulting _us_? Dude, I think he _was_!" Link gasped.

Toon Link made a chiding sound and shook his head sagely. "No wonder they say that I'm the smarter of the two."

Meta Knight, meanwhile, had raised his hands in an odd position of what might have been a meditative posture. He was taking deep breaths and muttering between exhales, "Must not...get angry... Must not...get angry...Must not—"

"I THINK META KNIGHT IS ANGRY," Pit screamed in Meta Knight's face with jubilance in his voice.

His yellow eyes snapped open in what was clearly a death glare. His meditation failed. Oh noes. "I am _now_!" he growled, while Zelda giggled quietly at this.

"Ahem...? Back to the list...?" she offered. Link booed and did a thumbs-down at this.

"Why did you have to _remind_ him—?"

"Samus, can you do dusting?"

Samus had taken a large bite out of her blueberry muffin at that precise second, and in her haste to answer "Yes," began to choke.

For a few seconds the rest of the room entertained themselves watching Samus cough/hack/splutter, until she finally spat out a wad of chewed up muffin on Pikachu's face.

Through a paste mask of blueberries and cooked dough Pikachu glared at her vehemently. He raised a yellow paw and wiped a large smear of it off his face, barring his teeth.

Wolf paused in his incessant itching to nudge Falco. "You're cleaning that up, ya know."

Falco nodded coolly. "I know." Though he sounded horrified and disgusted at the very thought.

"Y—Yes, I can...dust..." Samus wheezed.

Meta Knight raised a brow in concern. (Again, we must ask ourselves how this is possible when he has no eyebrows to speak of. Or as far as we know.) "Would you like a glass of water?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure..." Samus sighed in relief.

Meta Knight hopped off his chair instantly and departed through the open door, closing it behind him. Ringing silence followed their Meta Knight-free moment.

"So..." Ash tossed out breezily, looking bored again.

Sonic began to hum along the lyrics of "Live and Learn." Jigglypuff had resumed playing her DS Lite.

In the empty seat on Mario's right there was suddenly a scraping noise. The red-hatted Bowser-slayer looked and saw that Kirby was now trying to scrabble up into the vacant seat. He blinked.

"Need a hand?" he offered.

"Kirby!" cried Kirby happily.

Mario helped yank the puffball into the chair when suddenly realizing Kirby's head barely reached the tabletop. Kirby didn't seem troubled by this, however. Actually, the seat still looked empty because Kirby was so short.

"Anyone got something for him to sit on?" Mario called out.

Fox lifted Meta Knight's one thousand and eighty-two page rule book onto his lap. "Will this do?"

"Yeah. Can you hand it over?"

"Sure! THINK FAST!"

Ivysaur, _conveniently_ located on Mario's other left glanced up as Fox chucked the book, intending for Mario to catch it, and instead missed but hit Ivysaur full in the face. Ivysaur let out a yelp as he fell out of sight onto the floor. Diddy let out a screech of laughter and began to crack up, as did Pit, both Links and Captain Falcon.

Ash had bent over to help Ivysaur backup into the chair with the book tucked under his arm; now he looked up, looking extremely resentful.

"Pokémon have feelings TOO!" he snapped, grudgingly passing the book along to Mario and Kirby. Kirby now sat at elbow-height on the extra thick dictionary.

"We all know that, Ash," Diddy sniggered. "But it doesn't mean that we don't get to make fun of them."

"You want to go endangered?" Ash threatened, raising a knife off the table. Diddy eyed it nervously.

"...We all make fun of each other, y'know, so that's kind of the point. No need to get violent..." Diddy added hastily.

Lucario snorted and crossed his arms sulkily. "Just because we can't talk doesn't mean you get to poke at us for being "animals". Trainers depend on us; without _us_ there's no _them_."

"Pika, pika!" Pikachu agreed, nodding, while Charizard let out a thunderous roar of approval that was taken as "Hear! Hear!".

"Pride," sighed Ness, while Fox eyed Kirby with interest.

"Did ANYONE," Fox announced to the whole room, "ever bother to notice how alike Kirby and Meta Knight are?"

"I did," Lucas piped up.

"What's your point?" Yoshi asked curiously.

"See how short Kirby is?" Fox raised his hands to indicate a ridiculously small space between them. "Well, he's round and pudgy and so is Meta Knight. And they're both _Star Warriors_. Say Kirby goes through _psycho puberty_ in a few months—how do we know he won't start yelling at us and turn into a mini Meta Knight? We don't need _another_ dictator."

Everybody began to laugh except for Samus, who was desperately trying to keep a straight face. "Oh, come on!" she yelled in a strained voice (her throat still hurt from choking on the muffin). "He isn't that bad!"

Another random tumbleweed rolled under the table's legs. Total disbelief met these words.

Samus slumped in her seat slightly. "...Okay. Maybe he is that bad."

"The guy's a lunatic," scoffed Ness. "I'm amazed no one here has jumped off the Halberd yet just to get away from General Hell-Bent Rule Nazi."

"That's harsh," Peach criticized in an angry voice.

Fox shook his head and gave her a pitying look. "No, Peach," he sighed, "that's honesty. The solid, golden truth. Who'll open up a betting pool that Kirby is going to turn into a tight-wearing, rule-passionate I-have-a-ship-that-looks-like-me-get-over-it-already ass just like him?"

Applause and laughter rang through the room. Fox actually stood on his seat and took a sweeping bow before sitting back down again, looking smug.

Then the laughter died. The air became tensed with fraught fear, everyone's eyes widening to full moon capacity. They all seemed to be staring not quite at Fox, and yet...

Fox caught on. "He's right behind me, isn't he?"

They all nodded yes.

A pincer-like grip hit Fox's left shoulder, actually making it go numb from the force of the hold.

"Is that what you think of me?" Meta Knight asked in an unnatural tone, almost no emotion to his voice at _all_.

Fox didn't answer. He still couldn't see him, but every word sounded right in his sensitive canine-ears.

"Well, I'm so glad we got that out of the way," Meta Knight said in a scary voice, his tone more frightening then his glare. "We don't want lies between friends, _do we_?To answer your question, no, Kirby will not grow up into an _ass_ like me."

He then let go of Fox's shoulder and held up the glass of water he'd gone through all that trouble for.

"Oh, n-no thank you, Meta Knight," Samus stammered with a weak laugh. "I-I'm feeling loads better, honest."

"Just take it," he groaned, and Samus reluctantly accepted the water (which she quickly emptied when he wasn't looking into the "Squirtle juice" pitcher).

Meta Knight reclaimed his seat and continue as if nothing had happened. "Kirby, you get to assist Peach with laundry. You'll find something useful for him to do," he added as the Mushroom Princess opened her mouth to make a statement.

"DK—Diddy—clean the basement furnace and bring up a crate labeled "Bomb-Ombs," please."

DK perked up; apart from everyone else, the two Kongs didn't seem anxious depressed or rebellious about their chores; quite the contrary, their faces cracked into identical evil grins.

"You mean," Diddy asked swiftly, "that we'll be doing just basement chores. As in, 'nobody else has a reason to be down there other than us and little Jimmy,' right?"

Meta Knight looked taken aback; he recovered from his surprise quickly. "If you want to put it like that, then yep."

Nobody else but Lucario, again, struck this as SUSPICIOUS. He made a mental note to snoop around later like a nosy git and find whatever monkey business they were up to. Yes, we went there. We USED that pun!

Meta Knight suddenly looked shifty. He began to beam in an unsightly way at the three unlucky psychics.

Lucas flinched. "Wh-what are you gonna make us do?" he squeaked.

"Oh," Meta Knight drawled, "I have a _fun _job for you three."

Both Links gasped. Yoshi sighed and looked gravely at the three _fun-goers to-be_. "That means instant death, if Meta Knight dared to use the word "fun". Shall we kill you now, or give you a few minutes to compose an epitaph?" Yoshi added on in a highly persistent tone.

"Will we all get included in your wills?" Ash demanded to know.

Lucario gave them a scorching look that withered plants in an instant. "I don't plan to kick the bucket for a looong time, numbskull."

Ness grinned; Lucas looked terrified. "So what's the chore?" Ness asked curiously.

Meta Knight consulted the list before answering: "The training room that I converted two weeks ago needs to be polished. This means oiling down and polishing the machines so that they don't freeze up or rust. Restocking—there should be crates in there with all the items Miyamoto threw into _Brawl_; that's why Diddy and DK are bringing up the rest of the stores... And I think that's it."

"At least it's better than scrubbing the windows," muttered Lucas, looking thoroughly relieved.

Meta Knight continued. "Now, Ash, Ike, this chore will be of the utmost importance..."

Ike puffed out his chest in an impressive figure and Ash slumped his head on the table with a doughnut half-raised to his mouth. "Whatever you say," he mumbled, chewing on the doughnut while listening with interest.

His Pokémon all perked up excitedly

"Well of course it is," Ike crooned mockingly. "You only give the best and easiest chores to—"

"I never said easy," Meta Knight interrupted, "or best. I said important."

Ike seemed to deflate at these very words, and his arms swung limply to his sides.

"Oh."

Both Links began to giggle softly.

"Charrooh?" Charizard growled, using a knife as a toothpick.

Squirtle blinked besieging eyes at Meta Knight. "Squirtle? Squirt?"

As if understanding, Meta Knight answered promptly, "I believe I told you that I keep a lab on the Halberd?"

Ike scratched the back of his head. "Uh. No, you didn't."

"Well now I have," Meta Knight stated coolly-like. "And I want you two to clear it out."

"Clear what out?" Ash asked.

"Just...straightening stuff up. Making sure that I didn't leave tedious work items out. Elixirs. Potions. That sort of thing. If you do, you are to leave it on the long black table in the left-hand corner on your left; you'll see it the moment you enter the room."

Falco belched. "What would you need a lab for, anyway?" he asked, kicking his feet up on the table and leaning back. "Mad scientist experiments?"

"Rule number thirty-two! Feet off the table!" Meta Knight hissed in a cat-like manor, and Falco quickly thrust his feet off and swung them back under his chair.

"But seriously," Falco went on, "what do you need a lab for? What kinds of _elixirs_ and _potions_ and_ poultices_ would you need?"

"Well," Meta Knight drawled, "I keep some medicinal recipes down there...and it's where minor and major casualties are repaired, I guess you could say."

"As in h-hospital? And hospital, as in—as in you're a d-doctor?" squeaked Samus, her voice unnaturally high.

Sonic pointed an accusing finger at Meta Knight. "You're not certified to do surgery and stuff like that!"

Meta Knight gave a tiny chuckle. "And can you prove that, Sonic?"

"Well—no, but..." Sonic trailed off hopelessly and looked around at his fellow _Brawl_ characters for support. "Come on guys, help me out!"

"Yeah," Luigi said, "he doesn't have a license for that kind of thing."

"Beep?" ("Or maybe it expired two hundred years ago?") Mr. Game and Watch offered.

There were a few cautious and clearly wary murmurs, some going as far as to scoot their chairs away from Meta Knight.

"Disregarding all of that," he growled, "I'd like to wrap this up. It's already nine o'clock."

Everyone groaned. As they began to rise from their seats Meta Knight waved a hand. "Oh—sorry, I forgot something. Yoshi and R.O.B., I want you two to pilot the Halberd for a few hours and get us to The Plain."

Yoshi' eyes widened with shock that Meta Knight had told him to fly the ship. R.O.B., however, looked completely unfazed. "Okay."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Toon Link yelled. "Why do they get to fly the ship when everyone else—the Pikmin included—are _banned_ from even _looking_ at the wheel?"

Meta Knight crossed his arms. "I deemed those two to be mature enough. R.O.B. will also have had practice co-piloting ships and such."

Fox looked insulted, as did Falco and Wolf. "What are we then? Janitors?" Wolf asked indignantly, scratching behind his left ear. "We own ships too! So does Olimar—and-and Samus...and some of us other guys..."

"I said 'mature', not 'incapable hooligans'." Meta Knight paused to half-yawn, eyeing Wolf for a moment.

Zelda raised a hand. "Meta Knight—you didn't assign Wolf, Marth or I chores."

Meta Knight slapped a hand over his own mask. "Oh? I forgot that..." He still didn't take his eyes off Wolf, who was now trying to scratch his forehead with a straw from one of the broken cups.

Marth struck a pose. "He obviously felt that Lowell princes didn't have to do work! Am I right, Meta Knight? Am I? Am I?" He was nearly jumping up and down with sureness that perfect people didn't have to help.

"No," snapped Meta Knight. "Your chore _is_ Wolf."

"That sounded very wrong just now," Captain Falcon stated, his right eye developing a twitch.

"What's that supposed to mean?" DK asked. "That doesn't even make sense..."

"Of course it does," Meta Knight replied calmly. "I want them to give him a bath—a flea bath."

Wolf dropped the straw on the floor and froze, his eyes growing large with fear. "Whaddaya mean, 'flea bath'? I DON'T HAVE FLEAS!"

"I'm not blind. You've been using everything from the spoons to the plates as a backscratcher." Being the clever little warrior he was, Meta Knight decided to also add, "And Falco ratted you out."

"You bleeding traitor!" Wolf snarled, rounding on Falco, who jumped back in surprise. "Why'd you sell me out?"

"I didn't! I swear I didn't!" Falco insisted. The whole room kept turning their heads and following the conversation like a tennis match.

Wolf gave a snort of skeptical laughter. "You're the only one who knows besides Fox—! Wait a second, you're right; it isn't your fault." He glared daggers at Fox, who had been lurking near the corner. "It's Fox's fault!"

Fox glanced uneasily at Wolf, shocked at his accusing. "What, me? I wouldn't dare, I have no reason to tell anyone, especially Meta Knight."

"Then who else would have said that I have fleas if one of you two idiots hadn't?" Wolf spat.

"Actually, you just told me yourself," Meta Knight interrupted with a pronounced _ahem_. "So, Zelda—Marth: There's a conditioner in the bathroom you can use. Go get towels from the closet and don't be more than twenty minutes. Have fun, everybody."

And with that, he swished his _ÜBER BOOTIFUL CAPE OF DEATH _and vanished into thin air.

Wolf began to grope for his blaster and pulled it into his left hand. Back against the door, he edged away from Zelda. Marth remained seated.

"You can bathe him. I'll help by watching and making fun of you." Marth sneered.

"Oh very funny!" Zelda muttered under her breath, approaching Wolf with the rest of the _Brawl_ characters watching.

"Don't make this hard on yourself, Wolf," Zelda chided. "Be reasonable about it."

"YOU'RE NOT TAKING ME ALIVE!" Wolf hissed, spitting foam out of his mouth as he held out his blaster. Zelda's first impression was rabies. Her second was ANIMAL IN DISTRESS: Help it. Her caring nature _always_ made her want to save the whales—we mean, animals...

Zelda raised a brow. "You really wouldn't shoot that at me."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Wolf whispered in a deranged voice, and he pulled the trigger. Nothing came out.

He stared at it stupidly. "Damn it! Why didn't I load this piece of junk thing before I came down to get breakfast?"

"No weapons," drawled Zelda. "So surrender, won't you?"

Wold had reached the door. He gave her a cold look, spat, "Never!" and chucked the useless blaster at Zelda. Zelda ducked to avoid it and the weaponry hit Pit in the very center of his fat head. Without hesitation Wolf tore open the door and ran out, screaming loudly enough to wake the ReDead.

Zelda gave a hunting cry and tore after him with almost barbaric-like savagery. Marth hesitated, muttered, "Nutcase," and took off after her while scratching the back of his head. The rest of them all kind of shrugged and flooded out of the room to do their own designated chores, not very optimistically, leaving Fox and Falco behind to clear the table.

Fox poked one of the fragmented cups that Kirby's screech had smashed. He gasped, pulled back his hand and winced.

"Glass cut."

"Oh."

They both stared at the mess before it dawned on them.

"Hey, wait!" Falco yelled out into the empty hall, his eyes twitching. "What dishes are we supposed to be washing? Kirby BROKE THEM ALL!"


	4. Chores: PT 2

On a side note: DDR now stands for Death Dancing Revolution.  
Disclaimer: We do not own any of the following characters in the story. They belong to Nintendo.

Part Dos

* * *

**Wolf-Hunting On The Halberd**

_Zip._

Zelda moved silently from wall to wall, poking around corners, waiting...

"AHA!" she yelped, jumping out behind a corridor to find the room completely empty.

Zelda scowled and screwed up her face. "Marth!" she called out angrily. "Come out and help me already!"

Marth slouched after her with a bored scowl. "Do you have to do that?" he begged. "You look like some spy-ninja-thing when you sneak around like that. Honestly."

Zelda growled at him, and Marth backed away quickly. "At least I'm making an _effort_. All you're doing is whining at me!"

Marth shrugged and continued to pace after her. "Can you blame me?" he yawned, stretching.

"Actually," seethed Zelda sarcastically, "yes, I can."

"On what evidence?"

"Let's think," Zelda said in a fake, sweet voice, spinning around so that they stood nearly nose-to-nose. "If you actually kept your trap shut then we might have the element of surprise! You're also lazy, ignorant, spoiled and rude!"

"Why, _thank you_—"

"I'M NOT FINISHED!" Zelda yowled, and Marth actually shrank away from her. He could almost feel her emanating rage.

"You're selfish, uncaring, unintelligent—..."

Meanwhile, above them Wolf was clinging to a fan and watching the scene with something between amusement and anxiety. He ought to have been congratulated on finding such a decent hiding spot on such short notice. His only problem was that he was itchy and he couldn't let go in order to scratch—

"...—disrespectful, a bad leader for your kingdom, unwilling to actually do some work, selfish—"

Marth raised a hand. "You're repeating yourself, you know."

Zelda snorted. "It's all the same thing, isn't it? Now keep quiet and follow me this time. No more potty breaks."

Marth placed a foot forward, about to follow, when something wet hit him on the forehead.

"And this stupid flying piece of shit is leaking," Marth grunted, glancing up. His mouth dropped open. Wolf was actually sweating from not being able to divulge into his longing and scratch every square inch of his fur.

He raised his right hand again. "Uhhh—? Zelda?"

Zelda was now rummaging through a closet in the next hall over. Her voice answered testily, "Shut up, Marth. Can't it wait?"

"But I—"

"You already went, so hold it."

"I found—"

"What?" Zelda poked her head back into the room with great self-control and dignity. "What's so important that you had t—"

"I found Wolf." Marth pointed up.

They both turned their faces upward the second Wolf cried, "IT ITCHES!" and fell down from the rafter. Zelda was on him in seconds, using a rope to bind him and one of Ash's dirty socks to gag him. Wolf twitched and began to wriggle, making muffled noises neither of them could decipher.

"It'll be all over soon," Zelda promised as she dragged Wolf by the collar in the same manor Diddy once had. Marth again shrugged and skipped along.

**Ten minutes later**...

And so the unlikely trio stood in the middle of a large bathroom, tub at one end and door at the other. To the right; cabinets, a sink, a trash can (not emptied yet by Pit) and a basket full of magazines. Facing it: a white toilet.

The "hostage" was now sitting on the ground with his back to the bathtub, while Marth was leaning against a wall, watching with interest, and Zelda was trying to locate the shampoo.

"—do you have any idea what Meta Knight said it looked like?"

"Nope."

"Oh, wait, I found it," Zelda said cheerfully, holding up a pink bottle labeled 'Canine conditioner'. "Hold this," ordered Zelda, tossing it at Marth. Marth caught it and read the label.

"Hey, it's supposed to smell like flowers!" Marth grinned evilly at Wolf. "Might be a talking point, eh, buddy?"

Under the heavy ropes Wolf struggled to make a rude hand gesture. Marth laughed and continued to read the label while Zelda went to go get towels. "It says: Warning: may cause severe allergic reactions, burning, swollen skin, temporary blindness if taken in through eyeballs, internal bleeding, bad taste and toxic reflux if accidentally or purposely eaten, and diarrhea—woah, there!" he snorted, clutching his ribs as he doubled up with laughter.

Zelda re-entered the room as Wolf began to whimper. She eyed Marth suspiciously. "What's so funny?"

"Giving dogs bathes," Marth answered tearfully, handing her back the shampoo. Dignity restored itself instantly and he stopped laughing, looking haughty and unconcerned again. "Now while you two have fun I'll be slacking off." Saying this, he flopped down on the toilet lid and grabbed a newspaper titled _The Neopian Times_.

Zelda crossed her arms sulkily. "And why won't you help?"

"Like you said, I'm unhelpful, rude, spoiled, lazy—if I helped you I'd be proving you wrong. I also don't care. It's funny to watch."

Zelda ignored this by turning around to glare at Wolf triumphantly. "Now, how do we go about this?" she asked him thoughtfully. "Will you cooperate and let me bathe you? Or are you going to fight me every step of the way?"

Wolf glared at her and spat something out through a mouthful of sock.

Marth beamed; "I almost forgot!" he sang as he crossed the room and ripped the sock out of Wolf's mouth. Wolf began to splutter and cough violently, kneeling over from the bad taste of feet and sweat and who knows what else.

"...waaaater..." he moaned. "Foul...evil...foul... Need _water_..."

"Excellent," Zelda stated warmly, "then get in the tub and we can get you some water."

"No."

A nerve twitched on the Hyrullian princess's temple. "Why?" she cried in exasperation. "It's just a bath! You'll be rid of your fleas and you'll be clean!"

Wolf shook his head firmly. "Nope. Nada. Not happening. Haven't taken one in thirteen months, and I won't take one now," he proudly recited. Meanwhile, Marth retched.

"That was you?!" he burst out, brushing his wavy blue locks out of his face. "Gawd, I thought that was _Zelda _who smelled so bad."

Zelda flushed angrily. "I actually make an attempt at cleanliness," she snapped haughtily, looking away. She glared at Wolf. "You'll get in and you'll like it," Zelda repeated in a more calmer voice than seconds before, attempting a cracked, slightly maniacal smile.

Wolf sneered. "You can't throw me in," he retorted. "Not when I have all my clothes and electronic gear on. You'll short-circuit everything!" He stuck out his tongue.

Zelda faked a look of hurt. "Oh, no, he sure stumped me," she shot back sarcastically. "I guess we can't give you a bath after all."

"Really?" Marth asked hopefully. "I thought you were just kidding."

"I was, dumb-ass," Zelda hissed, now dropping her guard completely and descending to the level of filthy language Link normally used.

Marth flinched, his happy face receding into sulky disappointment. He barred his teeth and hid behind the newspaper again.

Wolf stared up at Zelda with a triumphant look. "I need all of these to adapt and survive," he pointed out. "Now, untie met and let me get back to scratching every hair off my body, if you don't mind."

"Oh, but I do mind," Zelda replied in a strained sort of voice. Without warning she then reached down and snatched the eyepiece over Wolf's left eye. Wolf let out a yelp of surprise and struggled wildly against his binds.

"What are you gonna do with it?!" he asked in a hushed, terrified voice, his eyes growing wider and wider.

Zelda didn't answer imiedently, but instead began to bully Marth by poking him. "Move."

Marth looked up. "Do you mind?!" he hissed, bringing his knees up so that he was tucked into a less-comfortable position on his seat.

With a groan of exasperation she grabbed Marth by the elbow and shoved him off. He landed onto the floor in front of Wolf face-first, the newspaper fluttering out of his hands before hitting the floor.

Zelda flipped up the toilet seat and held the eyepiece over the water. "I'll do it," she warned gravely, "I could let it go in and flush it down."

Wolf's pupils seemed to shrink with fear. "Please," he begged. "I need that."

"For what?" Zelda blurted out.

"To look cool."

Zelda gave him a look of exasperation. "That's_ it_?" she near-screamed. "You wear this piece of junk just _to look cool_?"

Wolf flinched as if slapped. "...yes," he answered meekly, wincing. "And it _isn't waterproof_."

"Promise me you'll take a bath?"

"NEVER!" he grizzled.

Zelda sighed patiently, as if a mother about to contradict her disobedient child. "Then I have no choice," she breathed calmly, lifting up a pinky finger with agonizing slowness.

"I'm begging you!" Wolf howled, trying to gnaw off the ropes that bound his hands and feet.

Up went the ring finger.

"And so much more to flush down the plumbing," Zelda sighed. "So let's see... after the eyepiece I'll relieve you of your blaster. Then I suppose your earpiece... I mean, they're all for looking cool, right?"

Marth looked as if Christmas had come early.

"No..." Wolf repeated stubbornly.

Up went the middle finger.

Wolf seemed to be having an internal struggle of pride versus instinct: electronics over putrid, glorious filth, or the other way around? He eyed his eyepiece imploringly, trying for a look of puppy cuteness that made him look, if possible, creepier.

Zelda shook her head. "Say goodbye," she said smugly, preparing to let go—

"WAIT!"

The outburst did not come from Wolf. (**A/N**: We bet you were all thinking it was him though, weren't you? Come on, admit it!) But rather, it was Marth who was pointing at the precariously balanced gadget caught between Zelda's index finger and thumb.

Zelda gave him a long look before asking in a dangerously soft voice, "Yes, Marth?"

"Oh... well, I was just thinking... where do you think the plumbing on the ship empties out? Does it suddenly rain brown over some passing village every time you flush—?"

Wolf unexpectedly added, "That's a good question, actually. We should interrogate Meta Knight about the bowels of this monstrosity later."

Zelda shuddered at the mere thought, looking disgusted. "I'm sure," she pointed out with an exasperated sigh, "that the Halberd does _not_ do such a thing. Now stop trying to distract me."

And the eyepiece slid from her fingers, spinning end-over-end into the—

"OKAY!"

This time it was Wolf who cried out, and not a moment too soon; with quick reflexes Zelda was able to snatch the eyepiece before it hit the surface of the toilet.

Zelda beamed at Wolf, who looked disgusted with himself for relenting. "Excellent," she said busily, snatching back the shampoo bottle from Marth, who was now standing after being shoved off his "throne" so abruptly moments before.

"If I untie you, will you get in the tub?"

"..."

"Wolf?"

Wolf glowered at her. "Do I have to answer that question?" he asked slowly, his pride dropping with every uttered word.

Marth sniggered. "That, or we can do it by force. And by "we" I mean Zelda." He quickly sauntered back onto the toilet and retook his front-row seat, watching the pair expectantly.

Zelda cautiously approached Wolf and bent down on her knees, grabbing the knot of the rope. Without speaking she untied the rope, which went loose and fell from around Wolf. Wolf blinked, not daring to believe he was free.

Animal instincts kicked in, and he bolted past Zelda for the door—

"OH NO YOU DON'T!"

He wasn't quick enough. With a mighty yell Zelda grabbed him by the ankles, and Wolf ungracefully smacked the floor.

"Now," Zelda panted, wrestling him into a full nelson, "we're doing it...my...way."

* * *

Wolf discovered five eventful minutes later that "Zelda's way" meant:

Stripping off every electronic device and article of clothing on his person by force until he was shivering in a pair of boxers in the middle of a surgically white bathroom with Marth practically howling with laughter. Wolf barred his teeth angrily and threw a bar of soap at Marth. Needless to say, it missed.

Marth's laughter subsided slightly under Zelda's glare; Zelda was now turning the tub on, so that hot water gushed out of the faucet.

"If you think it looks so fun why don't you join him?" Zelda offered threateningly. Marth sobered up fairly quickly.

Wolf sneezed. "I am not," he growled, "getting in that thing."

Zelda turned around with her arms crossed, surveying him skeptically. "Oh, yes," she drawled. "You have some sort of backup weapon on you to thwart my "evil" plans, I suppose? Oh, wait, you don't: I took them all away. Please don't make me throw you in there...it was bad enough I had to take off everything you had on except those." She made a gesture to his boxers.

Wolf narrowed his eyes, his face flushing slightly. It was impossible to tell wether this was because he was ticked or embarrassed; heck, it could have been both. "'Throw me in'?" he repeated incredulously. A grin curled his face. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

Zelda took a step away from the tub and pointed. "Get in."

Wolf sat down and glared up at her. "No," he shot back, proceeding to scratch his left arm. "I..._oww_...don't care about the fleas."

Zelda raised a brow. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"My pride hurts more," Wolf answered calmly.

Marth sighed and abruptly folded his newspaper shut. "Wolf," he called over, "I'm telling you this as one man to another: Enjoy it."

Wolf gave a derisive bark of skeptical laughter. "Why would I enjoy being hosed down by some psycho?"

"Because it's a _girl_. This may actually be the only time in your life one may willingly agree to this tedious task." Marth glanced at Zelda before hiding behind the _Neopian Times _again.

"Then let me correct you," Zelda snapped. "I did certainly not beg for this job, Marth. You're not even doing anything."

Marth peeked over the top of the newspaper. "I'm giving Wolf morale support. Though this is as funny as hell for me, we guys need to stick together."

"Telling Wolf to "enjoy this" is morale support?"

"Yep."

"Sicko," Zelda sniffed, turning her attention back to Wolf. Wolf was now sitting with his arms and legs folded tightly, glaring up at her as if daring her to come any closer.

"I bite," Wolf pointed out ruefully.

"I know you do," Zelda retorted, raising her left arm slightly. In the brief five-minute time-span it took Zelda to get him into all but boxers he had bit, scratched, and clawed her to shreds. Wolf snorted.

"But," Zelda added reluctantly, glancing at the clock on the wall, "seeing as how it's already been ten minutes we do need to step it up a notch." Like a bird of prey she snatched him by the scruff and threw Wolf into the tub.

Well, he didn't go sailing gracefully into the tub at first. No, no, _no_. First, Wolf hit the wall, then peeled off it and fell into the foamy depths with a large wave. Water jumped up and sloshed down the side of the tub from the force.

Wolf's head resurfaced a second later. He was completely covered in foam with a bubbly beard to match.

"Look how easy that was!" Zelda said somewhat hysterically over Marth's renewed mirth. She gave a long, drawn-out sigh before dragging a stool next to the tub and taking a dainty seat on it. In one hand she had the bottle of conditioner. Wolf twitched and began to scratch his back in earnest.

"The fleas don't like the water," Wolf whimpered. "It's making them bite even _more_."

"Of course they don't," Zelda replied patiently, "they know that their agonizing demise is here."

Wolf watched warily as she raised the bottle like a sword. "Prepare to be cleaned," she breathed.

"NO!" Wolf cried, and made a u-turn for the other end of the tub. Marth watched him with a look of utter amusement.

"Try biting him on the ear," he offered shrewdly. "I heard it makes dogs more likely to sit."

Zelda reached forward and grabbed Wolf by the tail; Wolf was thrown backwards slightly, and retaliated by whipping around and trying to claw at her. Try to picture this. Now, we all know that where the beast goes the tail must follow. And Zelda was still holding his tail. Weight and distribution don't work very well here, so Zelda was then thrown into the tub as his tail whipped out behind him.

Marth, who had been reading the _FAQ section_, looked up in time to see a wave rise up and splash all over the floor, promptly soaking him and the newspaper. Marth scowled.

"Hey, can't you two idiots watch what you're doing—?" He stopped at the sight of the scene. "Oh...my. Bloody. God."

Zelda had literally fallen on top of Wolf in the transaction. As she sat up, drenched thoroughly, Wolf resurfaced again beside her while spitting out mouthfuls of soapy bath water.

Barely keeping a straight face, Marth stood. "Excuse me," he said quickly before skipping out of the room with all intentions to go find his video camera.

Zelda raised a hand to ring water out of her hair, all the while muttering vehement curses under her breath. "Why couldn't you just _cooperate_?" she hissed the moment the door slammed shut behind Marth.

Wolf beamed, looking much more relaxed now that Zelda shared the same fate. "Oh, well, it's in my nature to always cause chaos and not be helpful. I'm just a little git, aren't I?"

"Yes," Zelda seethed, "you are!"

"Excellent!" Wolf mused, chuckling in amusement as he scooped up a handful of bubbles. "So does this mean I don't have to take a bath?"

A curious look stole over the Hyrullian princess's face. Instead of answering she reached for the bottle of soap on the stool and slathered the pink goo in her left hand. Placing the bottle back down, she tugged at the shower curtains so that they would have both been blocked from view. Wolf's confidence quickly turned into sheer terror as she advanced threateningly. He had the very quick impression of a wet cat that looked ready to commit murder with its eyeballs.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Zelda pounced.

* * *

**Enter: Marth**

Marth walked back down the hallway, swinging his video camera in his left hand while whistling. (Don't ask how he has one, he just _does_.) Marth had every intention to videotape Wolf getting his bath now that his only other source of entertainment had been waterlogged. Besides, a wet, pissed of Zelda was okay in his book. YouTube was going to have a riot when he was done.

He skipped down another hallway and found himself outside the bathroom door again. Grinning, he turned the handle and poked his head in. "Hey, you guys, I found my—my—umm..."

"Umm" was a very good word choice. Because Zelda had used the shower curtains to keep bubbles and water from getting all over the floor, Marth could only see Zelda and Wolf's outlines on the other side. That was all he needed to see. It looked wrong on so many levels mainly due to the fact that Zelda had pinned Wolf against the side of the tub and was scrubbing him vigorously, which looked oh so suggestive to Marth's tiny little brain. And not being able to see them didn't mean he couldn't hear every word Wolf was screaming, either:

"STOP IT! Stop scrubbing me there so hard, that hurts!"

"Stay _still_, you incapable idiot! How else am I supposed to kill every little flea?!"

"You don't need to be so violent! Oww! That was my—"

He slid down into the sea of bubbles. Zelda made a noise between a yell and a groan, reaching into the water and pulling him up again by the fur.

"Do not," she hissed, "make me tie you up. Would that be better?"

Wolf whimpered, but not before giving Zelda a good kick in the chest. The curtains fluttered from the force of the impact as Zelda hit the wall head-first.

"I hope that gave you brain cancer. Next time think before you _hurt_ the innocent!"

Marth didn't need to hear—or see—anything else. His eyes widened innocently as he watched Zelda's outline stand, shake off water, and make a jump at Wolf. He quickly clicked the "on" button and placed the video camera on he sink so that it was facing the tub. Then he made a beeline for the door and ran, hellbent on telling this bit of sensitive information to—

* * *

**Conference Room**

Meta Knight was in the conference room, watching Fox and Falco sweep up some of the glass from the mass explosions all the cups and plates had done during breakfast. He had his rule book spread open and was writing something on a new page, while talking to the two Star Fox troopers.

"—need to be careful, there's glass everywhere; next, I want you two to take the glass and throw it out, then put leftover food in the fridge and take whatever dishes are left and wash them—"

"We know!" Fox cried in exasperation, throwing a mop down on the floor and glaring at Meta Knight. "Why can't you go nag someone else about their chore and leave us alone?"

"Yeah?" Falco added testily. "We're working as fast as we can without cutting ourselves on all this glass." With a grimace he picked up a cup that had been split down the center and tossed it into a trash bag in the corner.

Meta Knight sighed, flipping through the pages of his book in a bored fashion. "I can't exactly make lunch until you two finish up out here and in the kitchen, can I?"

Fox snatched up several bowls and gave Meta Knight a disbelieving look. "Then why not help us clear the table and we can all get done faster? My shoulders are killing me."

"Sorry, Fox. It's not my turn today." He sounded sincerely sorry.

As Fox began to say, "Why you—" a loud yell sounded through the open door. Falco, Meta Knight and Fox paused.

"What was that?" Fox wondered, continuing the stack up bowls.

Falco threw another broken chink of glass into the trash bag and stole a half-eaten pear off the table. "Dunno," he yawned, taking a bite. "Maybe it's Captain Falcon getting eaten by those stupid plants."

"Or Wolf," Fox added absently, his stack of plates now so high in his arms that they wobbled ominously, threatening to crash if one wrong move was made. "I wish I could see him getting bathed—that would make my day considerably."

"Next time," Falco added angrily, raking up another broken glass, "when it's _Kirby's_ day to clear out the dishes and food _we_ should _scream like banshees _and make all the glass objects break. Let's see how he likes it."

Before Meta Knight could reply the yell came again, sounding closer than before. As Fox prepared to walk out the door a blue-black flash smacked into him. Marth and Fox both fell back into several of the chairs just as the plates and bowls went up from the force of the collision, then came down with ear-splitting crashes all around them. Glass and fragments of what might have been fine china scattered all around them. Fortunately, both of them had raised their hands in time to avoid getting cut by the flying glass. The bad part was that 28 more of the bowls had been broken.

Fox grabbed the back of a turned-over chair for support as he heaved himself up. "Dammit! You dolt," he snapped angrily at Marth. "Look what you made me do! Now that's even more glass I'll be cleaning up later."

Meta Knight quickly hopped off his seat and rushed over to help Marth up. "What's wrong? Why aren't you with Zelda and Wolf?" he demanded anxiously.

Marth winced as he stood up, dusting himself off before responding. "That's just it! I–I mean, I don't...it's..."

"Stop babbling, boy," Meta Knight said impatiently. "Take a deep breath and tell me what's wrong."

Marth inhaled slowly. At last he said, in a much calmer voice, "I...it's...well..." Unable to commune it correctly, he snatched Meta Knight's book and pen and began to scribble furiously. After a few tense moments of silence he shoved the book into Meta Knight's face. Meta Knight's yellow eyes flickered over the words written before dawning comprehension hit him like a speeding train. Slamming the book shut, he tossed it over his shoulder and began to walk toward the door leading into the hallway.

Fox blinked. "Meta Knight?" he asked hesitantly. "Is something, er, wrong?"

Meta Knight didn't answer as he stepped out the open door; before he could leave, however, Marth skipped after him and asked in an excited, curious tone, "Are you going to _kill_ her?"

Meta Knight unsheathed Galaxia before answering seriously, "Only if I have to," and ran out of the conference room. Marth bounded after him with his cape billowing out behind him.

Falco bristled indignantly and made a face. "Fine, don't tell us anything, we'll just be good little servants and clean up this mess!" he exploded.

"Thank you!" Marth's voice echoed distantly.

Fox coughed. "What do you think that was all about?" he wondered, bending over the pick up a chair. "Hey, look, Meta Knight left his book behind!"

Falco paused to scurry next to Fox, who had opened the book to the page Marth had hastily written on. Their curious facial expressions quickly changed to horror as they read the two sentences Marth had left behind.

"Oh...well...that's just... Dude, I can't even think of anything to say." Falco snatched the book and reread it. "It doesn't sound like something Zelda would do, anyway."

Fox snorted skeptically and continued to pick up toppled chairs. "So she's doing _what_ with _whom_?" he asked nobody in particular.

A tumbleweed rolled past the table.

* * *

**Following Two Knights...**

As Meta Knight and Marth retraced their steps down the hallway they were surprised to find Pikachu, Toon Link and Pit listening outside the door.

"What are you three doing here?" Meta Knight asked as he skidded to a halt.

Pikachu looked up and gestured wildly with his paws. "Pikapi! Pik, pikachu! Cha, pik, pika pikachu!"

Pit shrugged. "I can't understand him, but we all got the gist. Well, I was getting trash from downstairs"— he held up a black trash bag —"when I heard these yells and screams coming from the bathroom. I didn't go in, but soon Pikachu and Toon Link here came along and we all gathered around to listen and..." He shrugged helplessly. "The noise died, and there's water seeping out from under the door."

Indeed, a large puddle was now spilling out onto the carpet. Marth raised a brow. "Huh," he grunted. "That's...weird."

Toon Link stared eagerly at the Star Warrior. "What's going on? I thought Marth here was supposed to be de-fleaing Wolf."

"So did I," Meta Knight mused, raising his sword slightly. "Now can you three get back to work? Toon Link, don't you have air ducts to rid of rats?"

As Pit stalked off in disappointment Toon Link shrugged. "Link said he was going to get the mouse traps and stuff, so I told him I'd wait near here. And Pikachu, Mario and Luigi can't clean _this_ bathroom until _Wolf's _bath is done, so Pikachu was sent as a scout to see if they were finished yet."

Meta Knight sighed, slouching slightly with exhaustion. "Pikachu—they'll be done in possibly another ten minutes or so, go tell Mario and Luigi to come back then." Pikachu saluted him and raced around the corner with his tail in the air.

Toon Link smirked. "How is Pikachu supposed to convey that in _English_ to the Itallian brothers?"

"Leave!" Meta Knight ordered, and Toon Link walked off sulkily, but not before adding, "meanie," under his breath.

Marth yanked on the doorknob. He turned around to address Meta Knight. "It's locked."

"I know it is," Meta Knight agreed. He raised his word slightly, as if examining it. "If what you said was true then of course the door would be locked."

"Then how do we get in?" Marth asked in a dumbfounded sort of way. "If it only opens from the inside then—HEY!"

He barely sidestepped a second before Meta Knight had thrown himself against the door. Completely unfazed, he quickly recovered and took several steps back as the door came off its hinges and swung forward. Its shadow fell over Marth, who mouthed stupidly before it fell on top of him with a ringing _bang_.

Meta Knight sighed and walked over the door, regardless of the idiot trapped underneath. There came several muffled squeaks as he crossed into the threshold of the bathroom.

Meta Knight had only taken a step inside when he came to an abrupt halt, as if having walked into a wall. Marth, struggling to get out from underneath, freed himself after a few violent tugs and stood up.

"You know," he snapped, stalking up to Meta Knight, "you could have just—" He stopped.

Together they stared into the bathroom. It was a few seconds before Marth said in a dumbstruck voice, "Wolf—you're white!"

For in the very center of the waterlogged bathroom sat Wolf, completely drenched and still wearing a pair of sodden boxers. His fur was no longer dark gray but a silvery-white color that was almost as blinding as the sun. It was simply cleaner than anyone would have guessed possible. Behind Wolf sat Zelda on the toilet seat with a towel around her hair. She was currently ringing water out of her sleeves when she noticed the intrusion.

"Oh." She blinked at them calmly. "It's so nice of you to...er, "drop" in."

Meta Knight looked at Wolf inquiringly; he, out of the four present, was the only one managing a fruitful attempt at looking calm. "Wolf. Are you okay?"

Wolf twitched in reply. "No I am _not_ okay!" he grizzled, pointing accusingly at Meta Knight. "You let that psycho lady torture me! Now I'll... I'll never be right again." He curled up into a ball, shivering from the cold. Water dripped off his flea-free arms. Marth flinched, first glancing at him sympathetically, then glaring accusingly at the Hyrullian princess.

Meta Knight gave Wolf a don't-you-even-_mess_-with-me look. "You weren't spreading those stupid fleas around like chicken pox," he snapped impatiently, tapping a foot.

Marth, meanwhile, had skipped over and knelt down beside Wolf, his eyes wide with disbelief. He poked Wolf curiously. "I thought you were a gray wolf?" he inquired.

Wolf let out a tiny wail of misery. "I thought so, too," he sighed, picking at the tiled floor with a claw. "Hey?" He looked up hopefully. "May I go now?"

Before Meta Knight had barely gotten as far as saying, "Ye—" Wolf let out a triumphant howl and knocked Marth out of the way, making a beeline for the door.

"Hey!" Zelda called after him, "you forgot your—clothes..." She shrugged. "Oh, well. The idiot can go make a fool of himself. He's no longer _my _problem, anyway. Later."

Before she could leave the room, however, Meta Knight made a step sideways and blocked the exit. Zelda scoffed. "I did my chore, Meta Knight, so you don't have free reigns over me anymore. Move it."

Marth made a disbelieving noise. "You expect us to let you go so soon?" he gasped dramatically. "After everything we heard and saw you do?"

"Giving him a bath?" Zelda huffed. "Yes, I do," she answered with very little self-restraint.

Meta Knight sheathed Galaxia and looked around the bathroom. It was soaked. He felt a nerve snap somewhere in the back of his head at the mess, but pushed it off. He could save his lecture for her later. "We have some questions to ask you, Zelda."

Zelda balled her fists so that the imprint carved into the back of her hand of the TriForce glowed briefly. "What is this, _Law and Order_?" she groaned, half-heartedly massaging her aching temples. "Fine, you want an inquiry? Very well, detectives." She took a deep breath and recited at top speed: "Yes, Marth didn't help me at all. No, I did not hurt Marth. Yes, I did have to get violent with that son-of-gun, Wolf. Yes, Wolf bit me. No, I am not cleaning this mess up—that's the plumber boys' and Pikachu's job. Now, if you excuse me, I have to go take a blood test and find out if Wolf has rabies!"

Both Meta Knight and Marth flinched as she kicked over the stool and shoved them out of her way, heading for the empty door frame. "And fix this bloody thing," she added angrily over her shoulder.

Marth, not wanting his entertainment to walk out the door (yet another bad pun), cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, "Fleeing the scene of the crime, eh, witch?"

The Hyrullian princess paused in her leave. "I am not a witch!" Zelda hissed, spinning on her heels and sending water droplets everywhere. "I was doing my job."

Marth's self-restraint vanished. "Was your job_ having fun_?" he sneered, hands on his hips.

Zelda's anger evaporated, replaced with bafflement. "Huh?" was all she could manage. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Marth sighed and snatched the video camera out of Meta Knight's hands. ("Hey!") With a great air of graveness he hit the rewind button and passed it to her, where for the next five minutes Zelda watched the screen blankly.

When the screen went black from the end of the film she thrust it back into Meta Knight's hands, looking disgusted. "That's sick," she hissed. "I can't believe you filmed _that_."

"Say what you want, Princess," Marth crowed smugly, "but the camera does not lie!"

"No, it doesn't lie," Zelda growled. "It just gets away with giving viewers the wrong impression. And you!" she added unexpectedly, giving Meta Knight a reproving look. "For _believing_ him!"

Meta Knight shrugged unflinchingly. "I took Marth's word, and the voiced concerns of three others who claimed they heard "noises" and "screaming" coming from inside."

Zelda snorted. "Honestly," she near-cried in exasperation. "I was giving him a freaking _bath_, not—well..." An awkward pause, then: "Special Victims Unit won't be making visits anytime soon, I can assure you of that."

"So you say," scoffed Marth, who was lapping up her frustration happily and enjoying every ounce of chaos he was capable of rendering. "But if I interview Wolf, will I get the same reply?"

Zelda actually gave a hellbent roar that made both knights take quick steps back. "Meta Knight!" she screamed, jabbing Meta Knight in the chest. "You actually took _his word _over _mine_? Who's more _trustworthy_ here?"

"W-well," Meta Knight stammered, his cold eyes looking uncertain, "Wolf looked traumatized—"

"Of course he did!" Zelda snarled. "This is the first bath he's had in months, you idiot! Months! Tell me that you don't take that stupid video seriously?"

"I haven't seen it yet, so I'm undecided!" Meta Knight defended himself (finally).

"Undecided?" Zelda looked ready to strangle him. "Looks can be misleading. Take Marth, for example. Go ahead, ask him."

Meta Knight gritted his teeth. "Fine," he muttered vehemently, whisking around. "Marth, have you—?"

But his sentence died, along with his certainty that there had been anything worth investigating. Marth's unusual flamboyant seriousness had gone with the wind, so to speak, for the Lowell knight was now gazing at his own reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, mirror, mirror, on the ship," he crooned, "who is the most divine, fine, and so-totally hip?"

"Not you by a long shot," Zelda sneered, giving Meta Knight a cool look. "Well, if my presence is no longer needed, I am going to go change out of these soaked robes that Wolf had the courtesy of ruining for me. Maybe Peach will kindly wash them. Good day." She gave Meta Knight a sanctimonious little nod and prepared to leave, but not before adding over her shoulder; "Do I still hold guilt in your eyes?"

Meta Knight shrank under her malevolent gaze. "Well... I still want to look at this video before I make my say and—"

Zelda tossed her head and gave him a scorching glare. "Perverted old knight," she hissed, and walked out of the bathroom, stomping over the broken door in the process.

Perhaps two minutes of silence followed this punctuated, extremely long pause before Meta Knight spun around and gave Marth a good old kick in the shins.

* * *

**Down The Hall-A-Ways (Bedroom Section of the Ship)**

As Popo and Nana tiptoed down the hallway that housed their rooms they heard a long, drawn-out cry of pain come from somewhere nearbye.

Popo glanced anxiously at his sister. "Do you suppose that we should investigate?" he offered hopefully, holding up his mallet.

Nana shook her head in reply. "We have to get on with our chore. C'mon, who's room are we doing first?"

"Links'," Nana decided, making a right and approaching the door that had already taken on their personality: a large KEEP OUT sign had been nailed, hammered and glue-gunned in the very center of it. Below it, written in marker was: "Abandon all hope, ye who enter."

"Not very welcoming, is it?" scoffed Popo, tugging at the doorknob. It slid open with an ominous _creeeak_ that made the hairs along the back of their arms stand on end.

"Shall we?"

"Let's," Popo gulped, and he stepped inside.

He realized at a first glance that the Links' sign hadn't been rudeness, but blatant truth. Clothes, food, torn pages from books and bed sheets littered the ground from the morning's bangs and miniature explosions. Popo and Nana cupped their hands over their mouths in identical movements.

"Holy crap... They've only slept in here for one night and it's a pigsty." Popo swore, jaw-dropping. "It looks like something out of a Stephen King novel."

Nana made a retching noise and pinched the bridge of her nose. "What died in here?" she mused, gingerly nudging an empty Pepsi bottle with her foot.

Popo sighed. "Quick, evasive precautions!" Both of them reached into their wooly pink/blue coats and took out clothes-pins, attaching them to their noses. Both breathed relieved sighs.

"At least I can breathe again," Popo snorted in a nerdy, odd sort of sound, the clothespin altering his voice.

Nana nodded. "Tread carefully," she warned, gently gripping a green tunic and pulling on it. Underneath was an infestation of bugs.

Bugs. BUGS. _BUGS_. INSECTS!

"Eww!" she squealed, taking out her hammer and whamming it down on the infestation. "I. Hate. Bugs!"

Popo dodged out of the way and ducked in the nick of time as she wildly swerved her hammer. It thudded, missing every little insect in its wake and instead banged down on a lump underneath a pair of discarded pants. From underneath came the sound of something splintering.

"What did you break?" Popo panicked, edging next to his sister.

Nana bristled. "I didn't do anything!" she squeaked in a nervous, high voice. The Ice Climber shivered. "Bugs..."

"I know, I know," Popo soothed. "I get it. Come on, it can't be that bad..." He kicked over the white pants to see underneath Toon Link's WindWaker snapped clean in half. A spring was coming out of one end.

"Shoot. You broke a wind," Popo gasped, scooping up the demolished instrument. "I think we can fix it up with duct tape."

"Toon Link isn't gonna be happy, though," Nana added ruefully. "Do you think we can get away with blaming it on Captain Falcon?"

Popo raised a hand to his chin in contemplative thought before declaring chirpily, "Yep!" and sticking it inside a pocket.

Nana was still scooping up clothes off the floor and tossing them in a heap beside the open door. "Let's chuck all the clothes there and dump it down the chute."

"Got it," Popo grumbled, kneeling beside the bunk beds to reach underneath for a sock. He paused, however, after snatching it up to see that a fairly creepy green glow was coming from underneath.

"Nana?"

"Yeah?" his sister answered, padding across the room to join him. "What are you looking at?"

"I think they built a nightlight under their beds," Popo replied nervously, budging over a few feet to make room. The other twin kneeled down beside him and gasped at the sight of a piece of pepperoni pizza with hairy mold growing on the crust. It seemed to be making some sort of gurgling sound and was emanating a sticky, faintly sinister light.

"Woah..." they both whispered softly. Popo stuck out his hand, preparing to grab at it, when Nana yanked him from out under the bed and slapped his wrist.

"Ouch!" Popo recoiled and cradled his right arm. "What did you do that for?"

"Think," Nana begged in exasperation. "It's a wonder that we're related, when only one of us got the brains."

Popo made a face. "So?"

"_So_, it might be poisonous, or...or it'll bite your hand off! We'll all start calling you 'Stubby' because that was all that was left of your fingers! Stubs!"

Popo scowled. "Have it your way," he sighed, getting up. "Here." He gestured nervously to the pile of dirty clothes that they had harvested, mainly tunics and duplicates of their pointy green hats. "Let's kick it out of here. I don't want to touch it and unearth something like radioactive pudding."

Nana squeaked in agreement, and together they muscled the pile out the door and shoved it halfway down the hall with kicks and swipes from their mallets.

"Down she goes!" Popo cried jubilantly, snatching up the laundry and tossing it down the laundry chute. They watched it succumb down the winding vents and vanish, the last_ thuds_ echoing softly.

"Who next?" Popo asked.

Nana paused to think before saying, "Let's do Zelda and Peach's room next. I'm not taking another risk like that again."

They both made collective shudders and hopped back along their own trail for the room across from Links'. Opening the door, they found it spotless and neat. Not a single piece of clothing littered the floor, the beds were made and every thing was packed away into its designated spot. It was perfect. _Too_ perfect. The purity was blinding.

"My eyes are bleeding!" Nana screamed. "Shield your eyes!" And she slammed the door shut.

Both of them slid to the ground with their backs against the wall, puffing, slightly out of breath at the glorious sight of neatness.

"I've never seen anything so, well, clean," Popo panted. "I don't think that we need to go in there and straighten up, make the beds and stuff... ya know?"

"I know," Nana agreed heartily. "Let's...let's do Snake and Yoshi's room next."

And so both siblings stood and stumbled across the hallway, still slightly dazed by the dramatic change from "waste dump" to "a little slice of heaven". Nana hesitated when they reached the rather normal-looking door.

"Should we knock?" Nana wondered. "Or be expecting something? This is _Snake's_ room, after all."

"Like what?" Popo asked disbelievingly, grabbing the knob and turning it. "Paranoia doesn't necessarily mean the guy's gonna rig his bedroom with booby—TRAPS!"

He grabbed his sister by the hood and yanked her forward into a dive, as arrows whistled over their heads. They both thudded ungracefully onto the plush red carpet chin-first. As both panted, letting out relieved sighs, an odd clanking noise made Nana look up. Metallic needles were blooming out of the ceiling and getting closer—_why_ were they getting closer?—they were going down...

Toward them.

"Roll, you great lump, move and ROLL!"

"Roll _where_?" asked a panic-stricken and confused Popo.

Nana head butted him right and they twisted out of the needle's way just as if sank into the floor. They weren't out of the oven yet. Below them the floor had begun to slide open.

"Jump!" both shouted at the same time, and the Ice Climbers scrabbled madly to their feet and made a leap over the pit of boiling lava. The moment that obstacle was cleared flamethrowers spouted out of the wall directly on their right side...

"Move back!" Nana yelped and both sprang out of the flame's way as it seared across the width of the room.

As they made a mad dash to the far left side of the room an odd clicking noise began to sputter from the opposing wall. Beneath the floor a chainsaw had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and was now eating through the metal floor in their direction—

"Holy shi—"

"I'm going to KILL Snake."

Both statements were drowned out by the growl of the motor and, instead of wasting time on empty swears and death threats they made a zigzag backwards— right into the jaws of another saw. The situation had a horrible familiarity to Pacman. Both sprang forward as the blades flew at them and missed. Above their heads purple gas clouds had begun to smog the space around them.

"Hold—your—breath," Nana wheezed, throwing the clothespin over her nose again. Popo puffed out his cheeks, his face slowly growing redder the longer they stayed in the poisonous vapors.

It vanished. Both let out long breaths of relief and began to suck in air when Nana realized something odd. "Is the floor rising?"

Both of them had collapsed onto what were really platforms now going slowly upwards toward the ceiling. They were each standing on something with blue and red arrows.

Popo cuffed the edge of the mat. "Are these DDR—?"

A loud, booming, obnoxiously cheerful spokes oice came out of nowhere and from the ceiling unfolded a wide-screen high definition TV.

"ARE YOU READY?" the voice boomed.

Popo stood up and looked around. "Who said that?" he demanded.

Nana quickly hopped to her feet and pointed at the TV screen. "Look!"

It had flickered on to a pink and blue heart-shaped background, in the top corners a bar of some sort, below, in the bottom left-hand corner a score meter with nothing but zeroes.

"Please...don't tell me..." Popo whispered, his eyes widening with terror.

"ARE YOU READY TO DIE?" the announcer voice screamed in that voice that really makes you want to strangle somebody.

"NO!" cried the brother and sister, hugging each other.

The song started. Arrows were now racing up the screen like speeding bullets:

Down. Double right-left. Down. Double right-left. Down. Double right-left. Up, left, up chaos step. Double right-left. Double down-right. Double up-down, HOLD the ketchup (we mean up arrow) and a left...

_Love, love, love, love,  
La-la-la love shineeee! Yeah-yeah-yeah—  
Yeah!  
"Sun Shine!"  
Hare-watatta, "Blue Sky"  
HIKARI ryoute ni A-TSU-KU mabushii koi no yokan!  
"Love Beat!"  
Kono kimochi mo "Heat Up!"  
HIKARI abite  
Soshite ANATA no moto e._

"What—is—this—torture?" Popo wailed, crossing his legs and missing the arrows. His meter was dropping fast. Nana, on the other hand, was barely keeping herself and her brother alive altogether.

"'Love Love Shine'! It's—DDR—challenge mode!" groaned Nana shrilly, nearly slipping on her platform.

A minute had passed now... forty seconds of missing arrows and music left...

"Why—do—people—bother—making—impossible—games?!" Popo panted huskily, sweat clotting on his forehead and trickling down his face.

Before Nana could snap a reply on both sides of the aerial TV gaps in the ceiling opened up, emitting what looked like sinister-looking lasers. Time slowed and froze to something out of the Matrix as they watched both lasers begin to charge—slowly—and the gauges lit. Out came scarlet laser beams, hitting the left arrows their feet had been on a second before.

"What is this? DDR death dancing?" Popo asked incredulously, panting for breath.

_La la lalala la,__  
La la lalala la,  
__La la lalala la,__  
La la la la,  
La love you, love you, love you, love you love sunshine!_

"We have to AVOID those things AND DANCE?!" Nana screamed, stamping several times in a row on the right arrow, then cross-jumping in time with her brother. The meter dropped dangerously low. The lasers fired again so that they hit the metal DDR pads just as they jumped in time to the song.

"Nana—what happens if...if we get a 'game over'?"

"I don't," Nana cried in exhaustion, ducking a laser beam, "even want to think about it! Just dance, DANCE FOR YOUR LIFE!"

Laser, hit an arrow, jump, avoid getting killed by a laser if they made a miss...

Yep. Today was going great so far.

_Setsunaku Amazuppai  
Koi no hajimari wa  
Mahou no PAWAA de HIKARI hanatsu no!  
Kamisama—Mou—Chotto dake  
Mimamotte kudasai.  
HarisaKESOU na OMOI tsutaeru kara  
Todoke! Motto mabushii LOVE SHINE!  
..Shine...shine... shine-shine-shine..._

As the song drew to a close and the laser's blast grew fainter both siblings slowed their dancing, their legs aching. They had kept themselves from at least getting below zero on the gauge. Their score: -300. Asking how they got a negative each is like asking how Chuck Norris can turn a McDonald's into a KFc by roundhouse-kicking it.

Then, as a miracle to both, the lasers went back into the ceiling, the platforms abruptly sank back into the floor and knocked the Ice Climbers off their feet, the weapons that had revealed themselves in the room vanished, and the TV screen was now displaying a score.

"OHH! BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME!" the announcer guy yelled.

Both glanced up, briefly catching a glimpse of their score (E) before the TV flipped over and vanished back into the ceiling. For a few dumbfounded moments of laborious breathing brotherand sister slumped side-by-side, angry, confused, out-of-breath and extremely owned.

"And for all that's worth," Nana ranted, "we didn't even have to come in here to clean up! It's not even dirty."

"I. Am. Officially. Lame. Look at us, failing that song!" Popo sighed, unbothered by the fact they had nearly been killed. "And we are _Brawl_ characters, for God's sake! I think every ounce of pride was just sapped out of me and gone with the freaking wind."

Nana turned around, about to reply, when the bedroom door swung open again.

Both instinctively threw themselves forward against the beds as Yoshi entered his room, coffee-filled mug in his left hand, an open book in his right.

"LOOK OUT!" they screamed in unison, but it was too late.

Arrows had sprang forward at Yoshi, but to their amazement he crouched as if on cue, ducking the flying arrows, and side-stepping right many seconds before the needles came down from the ceiling. What was amazing was that he was still reading his book. The floor next began to move apart Yoshi's feet, but the tiny green dinosaur had already army-rolled forward—not even spilling a drop from his coffee—

The flamethrowers began to spew fire at him, but Yoshi had outsmarted the beast by running the width of the room. Yoshi got out of fire's reach and made a spectacular jump to avoid both chainsaws as they advanced on either side, the result being that both smashed together and retreated. Coming down, the ceiling opened up above Yoshi's head and instead emitted a cloud of purple gas. Still reading his book, Yoshi took a deep breath and waited patiently for the poison smog the clear.

Popo and Nana felt their jaws unravel an inch each time he cleared an obstacle without even breaking a sweat. Their jaws' stretching capacity was tested as they watched the raised platform lift Yoshi up, preparing him for the same minute-and-forty-second torture.

DDR music blared to "Love Love Shine". Lasers shot at his feet a minute into the song. Yoshi was not only _drinking_ his coffee and _reading _his stupid book, but still managing to land perfectly on every arrow and not get singed (unlike the two unfortunate Ice Climbers).

His letter score read AAA as the platform sank back into the floor (smoking), the TV vanished and the lasers went back to their dormant state. It was when Yoshi finally looked up from his book and drained the rest of his drink did he noticed Popo and Nana lying rather pathetically at his feet.

"Oh," he mused, blinking at them cheerfully. "Hi! What are you guys doing here?"

Nana and Popo both opened their mouths at once and began to talk at the same time in gobbled voices:

"—that was incredible, how did you—?"

"—what was Snake thinking, making that deathtrap?"

"—cleaning the rooms and taking out laundry—"

"—Dude, that was freaking awesome!"

"—why aren't you flying this piece of—?"

"—Dude, that was freaking awesome!"

Both faded off breathlessly into silence, staring imploringly at Yoshi. Yoshi looked rather taken aback by their sudden spazzness and bombarded questions. He shrugged almost indifferently.

"Well," Yoshi paused to think. "Snake had this place rigged last night when we first settled in. We dinosaurs are adapters, so I learned to jump like a maniac after an unfortunate incident returning from the bathroom last night and... yeah. Thanks." He grinned.

"Why aren't you flying the ship?" Nana demanded anxiously, grudgingly hauling herself onto her sore feet.

"Oh? That?" Yoshi grinned. "Meta Knight told us to wait until Snake and Sonic had finished wiping down the windows, before we actually start crashi—I mean, _flying_ the Halberd!" He sweat-dropped. "And I'm extremely lazy, so the longer the wait the merrier I am. Anyway," he went on, grabbing Popo by the arm and hauling him onto his feet, "the traps won't go off unless you enter the room, so you guys can just head on off to somebody else's. This place is, er, fine enough already."

Both Ice Climbers were relieved to hear this. With hasty, heartfelt good-byes they fled the room and ran out into the hallway, slamming the door behind them.

"Never again," Popo vowed, looking around. "Where to next?"

And so the process of getting the clothes and getting out of the rooms with them went fairly smoothly as they worked down the hall. The only failed attempt and exception to this rule was Ash and Lucas's room. When they tried to enter the door wouldn't budge, even thought it was unlocked. After a few barrel-rams the door had swung open onto a mountain of dirty laundry at least five feet high. Needles to say, they had blazed trails in their attempts to get outside again.

Two rooms remained: Meta Knight's and Wolf's/Pikachu's. They hesitated outside their "landlord's" door (well, "dictator," in the words of Toon Link) and eyed it as if it might suddenly come to life and eat them.

Popo fumbled with the large key ring until he was gripping an old-fashioned key, his hands trembling slightly.

"P-Popo," stammered Nana, "I don't think when Meta Knight said to clean up all the bedrooms he was including his too."

"Nonsense!" Popo beamed. "Besides, we earned this privilege. We have the key. We have the power. Oh, come on," he added in a fake-hurt voice at his sister's incredulous stare. "Don't you want to see the man behind the cape? This is our chance, our time to shine! This finding could be even greater than Leal Largebomb's landing on the moon."

"It's 'Neil Armstrong'," Nana corrected him.

"Yeah, yeah, like it matters," Popo scoffed, and without hesitation he jammed the key in the lock, jiggled the knob and swung the door open with an ominous _creeeak_.

They both peered around the door frame. The room was unsurprisingly _dark_. Voldemort and/or Darth would have been proud to call this place home. At the back of the room was a large master bed, covered in black and dark-blue sheets, neat, tidy, and already folded. Nothing littered the oddly perfect floor. The room seemed to have an eternal kind of gloom to it, from its perfect dark elm-wood vanity, crowded with mysterious objects, to the bookshelf lined with novels and boxes. In the top left-hand corner was a closet and—

"HE HAS HIS OWN BATHROOM?!" Popo near-screeched angrily, pointing at the door. "And he gets to use his own and make us all share, what, like one bathroom?"

"There are three other bathrooms on this ship and you know that," Nana snapped quietly. "And lower your voice. We shouldn't even be in here..."

"Scared?" Popo teased. "HEY—look at that!" His eyes gleamed with excitement as he blazed a trail for the dresser. "Come check these out!"

Nana bit back a groan. But curiosity got the better of her judgement, and she willingly crossed the carpeted, dark-purple floor and joined him in front of a large mirror.

"What is this?" Popo wondered. He was poking an ancient-looking crystal ball. "There's a note on it."

He bent over and scooped up a sticky note that was covered by a thin layer of dust. Clearing his throat, he read:

"_To: Meta Knight_

_From: Mother"_

"He has a MOM?" Nana stated disbelievingly, looking as if the note had tricked her into ever believing such an unbelievable thing.

Popo shrugged. "I guess so. Hey, he had to come from _somebody_. I feel bad for the chicken that laid _his_ egg—it must of been as tough as shi—"

"_Popo!_"

"What? Don't I get to use the First Amendment?"

Nana whopped him on the hood, and it fell down over his face.

"I'm blind!"

"Lift it up, you idiot," Nana sighed as she watched him unstick his blue hood. She made a small circle and headed instead for the bookshelf.

"Steven King?" she mused, as Popo stumbled over and he, too, snatched up a book. Nana then continued to add on, "Kay Hooper? R.L. Stine? Stephenie Meyer? Meta Knight must enjoy dark, perverted and creepy humor."

"Now we know where he went wrong in his childhood," Popo joked, tossing books from the shelves over his shoulder as he lifted them off their rows. Pages flew everywhere. "He screwed it up by joining the Galaxy Soldier Army and reading too many horror novels. And then he invited _us_ into his life. Huh. What an interesting book. Check it out, sis!"

He had paused in his ransacking to hold an ancient-looking tomb up to the (very much lacking) light. It had a brown, leather-bound cover like moleskin and was written in some strange language with strokes from bloodred ink. The spine was worn and crinkled.

_Seijin Majikku_

"Can you translate whatever the runes say?" Popo asked.

"Do I look like a linguist to you?" Nana snapped impatiently, flipping through pages. "I have no idea what the language is, but there are some pretty graphic illustrations in here—ugh." She slammed the book shut. "Forget that I said it."

"Hey, wait!" Popo snatched it out of her hands and threw open the cover page. "There's something written in purple here..."

Blowing off dust, he peered intently at the hand-writing which read in a familiar-looking, tidy scrawl:

"Sage Magic For Dummies"

"So _that's_ what the title says," Popo sniggered. His eyes practically glowing with excitement, he turned through the pages eagerly. "Wanna try some spells in here?"

"There's no such thing," Nana pointed out impatiently, crossing her arms.

Popo shrugged. "Suit yourself. Hey, I'd try cracking that logic at Zelda or Ganon. _Non-believer_..." He snorted skeptically. "They use magic all the time."

Nana rolled her eyes in the darkness.

"Waitwaitwait—look!" Popo was pointing eagerly at a page with runes written at the top. Below it was a footnote written in the same purple ink they related with Meta Knight.

"A disappearing spell?" he echoed, whistling. "There's an incantation and everything! It even says how to make it work..." Putting on his best impression of Meta Knight's voice, he read, "_Step one: Select an object to vanish. Step two: Read incantation aloud, and tap said object twice, before concluding with final line. The spell's power is doubled if more than one voice speaks it._"

Popo stared eagerly at his sister. "Hey, did you hear that? The power is doubled, and it's perfect, we're TWINS!"

"Brother and sister, mind you," Nana argued. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure that I'm adopted. Or _you_ are, anyway."

"Then why do we look alike?"

"It's a coincidence," Nana retorted importantly, grinning at him slyly. "I'm far too intelligent and beautiful to be related to you."

"Aren't you just a friendly little thing?" Popo joked, shoving the book into her face again. "Please? Please, please, please._ Please!_"

"No. No, no, and no again!" hissed Nana loftily. "We shouldn't even be in here in the first place."

Popo shook his head gravely, as if mortally offended. He crossed his arms sulkily and gave her a rebellious stare. "Fine," he grumbled, holding the spell up to his eye, trying to read what Meta Knight had written in the footnotes, "I'll do it myself. ... Okay, here it is."

Clearing his throat, he recited in a sing-song voice, "To make an object disappear, tap it twice"— he glanced around quickly and decided on the crystal ball; tapping it twice, Popo carried on with —"and say, 'Oh, dear!'"

Before either could blink, the crystal ball twinkled and, _crack_, vanished. Both stared incredulously at the spot where centuries worth of dust had collected on the crystal ball. It had simply poofed into nonbeing, gone forevermore. Nana twitched slightly. Popo shifted away, feeling a rant coming on.

"Before you say anything," cried the blue-coated Ice Climber, "I have one thing to say: This was all your fault."

"MY FAULT?!" Nana shrieked, rounding on him and clobbering him over the head with her mallet (**A/N**: Midget on rampage!). "How is it _my_ fault? You said the stupid spell!"

"You goaded me into it," Popo lashed back. "You should have been more responsible and stopped me at all costs!"

"Oh, no," she whispered in a dangerously soft voice. "I am taking no part in this."

"Maybe Meta Knight will never notice?" Popo suggested meekly, rubbing the back of his head timidly where a bruise was now swelling.

Nana gave a derisive bark of laughter. "Oh, I don't know," she crowed. "His mother gave him that"— Popo sniggered —"so, yeah, he'll tend to notice that a family heirloom vanished off the face of the Earth."

Popo broke the stern silence with the most random question in the world: "Does this vanity mirror make me look fat?"

"What?" Nana looked as if she had been slapped across the face, the way she stood flabbergasted at him.

"The wardrobe that the ball was on has a huge mirror. Turn around and look."

Reluctantly, Nana spun around and stared back at her own reflection. Cropped at the edge of the dusty drawer top was a huge, dark silver-framed mirror.

Popo stuck his tongue out. He grinned. "Who would have thought that the dictator primps every morning?"

Nana sighed. "You don't know that. That sounds more like something Peach or Marth would do."

"Hey, look!" Popo used one had to pull at his lip, the other to peel back his eyelid. "Don' I 'ook funneh?" he slurred.

Nana cuffed him over the head. "You look ridiculous."

Popo frowned at her. "You're no fun anymore," he mumbled as he dropped the face. He gave her a hearty nudge. "Please?"

Nana went cross-eyed. "Like this?" she cheered, swaying slightly. "Woah, there's two of everything..."

"Really? Let me see!" Popo took several dizzy steps toward his sister. "I can't see straight—"

WHOMP.

Both smacked into each other and stumbled back onto the floor with loud thumps. Little mallets circled around their heads like stars. Shaking them off, they struggled into sitting positions and roared with laughter.

"You look so stupid," she teased, brushing off dirt and dust motes from her coat. She offered him her hand and both stood up slowly, shaking their heads like wet dogs. Turning around to face the mirror, both stared at the **three** reflections printed there.

Meta Knight stood directly behind them.

Like sirens both let out high-pitched girlish screams and jumped around to face Meta Knight. The Star Warrior was glaring at them.

"I suppose that cleaning involves making yourselves look like idiots and destroying my room?" He gestured to the books scattered on the floor that Popo had carelessly ripped off the shelf. In his other hand was a video camera.

"Uh," Nana stuttered, "well, that was all Popo's fault. Besides, you said to clean the rooms, and there was nothing to clean..."

"So we made it dirty to have something to do!" Popo interjected with a thumbs-up.

Meta Knight glared. "I said everybody's _but_ mind," he corrected them. "Now, may I show you the door?"

"But we can see it fine," Popo protested in bemusement, tilting his head. "What's so special about the door anyway—?"

Faster than you could say "What the—?" Meta Knight roughly seized them by the ruffs of their coats and tossed them out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

Both flailed their arms madly as they smacked into the wall like bullets. As they peeled off, the twins left behind them Popo- and Nana-sized indents in the wall.

Nana sat up gruffly and rubbed her sore forehead. "I'm starting to wonder if living here means signing myself up for casualties and violence."

Popo nodded in agreement, gritting his teeth slightly as he sat up. "What a hypocrite," he muttered.

"I heard that!" Meta Knight called from the other side of the door.

"Bet that you can't hear_ this_," hissed Nana, making a rude hand gesture at the door.

"I saw that, too!"

Gulping, the Ice Climbers backed away nervously.

Popo swapped a glance with Nana. "Perhaps we should just finish up with the last room. I'll go get the clothes, and you dump them down the chute."

"Agreed."

Like a football player, Nana took a stance at the laundry shoot in the hallway. Popo disappeared into Pikachu and Wolf's room, returning a moment later with a handful of clothes—all Wolf's—and chucked them at his sister.

"Think fast!"

As Popo turned around and marched back into the room without a backwards glance, Nana attempted to catch the speeding laundry. It hit her full-speed in the face, and under the impact Nana thus tumbled down the chute with the laundry.

Popo came out a moment later with another armful of laundry. "Hey," he called, "here's the second batch—... uhh, Nana?"

His sister wasn't at the laundry chute. Popo looked around worriedly. "Nana? Hey, Nana! Where are you? Where'd ya go? Nana? NANA!"

* * *

**Laundry Room**

Nana's eyes watered as she accelerated down the diagonal slope of the chute. Down, down, down—_whoosh_—she was tumbling into the bowels of the Halberd. It was thanks to her size that she could fall down without brushing the sides and getting skid marks, or otherwise become wedged in by the cramped space.

Below her light seemed to suddenly glow more fiercely. Was she nearing the end of the fall? Eyes closed tight, Nana waited for the impact.

WHOMP.

For a moment she was in a free fall, plummeting out of the chute; Nana barely had enough time to see that she would have a soft landing, the clothes piled below her, when time began to crucially unfreeze and Nana was buried by the suppressing weight of shirts, pants, underwear and awful-smelling socks.

The dirty laundry cushioned her fall. Nana poked her head up, gasping, when a noxious, pungent odor wreathed around her. The toxic stench of stained garments was so overwhelming that Nana promptly went out-cold, buried beneath the hoard of clothes and invisible from anyone's range of sight.

Including Peach's and Kirby's.

Both pink _Brawl_ characters had had their backs turned just as Nana dropped into their midst, now hidden beneath the pile of dirty clothes. Peach un-arched her back and stretched, bending over once more to scoop up a second handful of clothes and shovel it into the washer.

The room she and Kirby were in looked like a chink of somebody's basement: it was pale gray-blue, lined with shelves of clothes detergent and the sort of crap you'd find in the attic of an old couple. A door led out onto the staircase that led both up and down—to the sub levels of the basement where the Kongs were supposed to be cleaning the furnace, and back upstairs onto the first floor of the Halberd. The Mushroom princess hated all the damn number of stairs.

To Peach it was prison. To Kirby—well, he just didn't care.

The Pink Star Warrior was sticking his tongue in a power outlet and miraculously enough not getting electrified. Peach shoveled another heap of filthy clothes into the open washing machine before standing up, sighing.

"It reeks down here," she complained, scrunching up her face at the powerful smell. "I don't know if you could smell it or not, as you don't have a nose—DON'T DO THAT!"

Peach made a massive grab and hauled Kirby away from the outlet as the pink puffball flailed his arms.

"Poyo!" Kirby snapped, crossing his arms and glaring up at Peach sulkily.

Peach returned the look. "You're lucky that mouth of yours was meant for sucking things up, or any longer and we would have been in real trouble."

Kirby still pouted.

"I know you're bored and as miserable as I am," Peach sighed, "or maybe you're not, I can't tell. Just please don't put anything in your mouth—oh, wait, that would be impossible for you. Let me rephrase that: Don't put anything in your mouth that looks _dangerous_."

Kirby nodded enthusiastically.

"Now," Peach mused, taking up another armful, "I've decided that when the rinse cycle ends we can put you to work. You can help blow dry the wet clothes—the dryer down here isn't working, so until it's repaired you can just blow on everything, and it'll go quick and smooth—"

Kirby wasn't listening to a single word she was yapping. Instead, his curious eyes were drawn to the glass door of the washer. Like at a Laundromat, the doors were see-through, so you could watch the clothes spin around in a circle. What Peach _didn't_ see (as she had her back turned to face him), but he saw, was that an unconscious Nana laying near the front of the laundry.

Inside the washer.

Kirby gulped.

"—and the plumbing backed up really badly, so water was oozing all over the castle. The Toads were all screaming and drowning in two-inch deep puddles. I honestly don't know how that happened, but then Toadsworth said, 'Mario's a plumber! Ask him to fix it, for the sake of clothes!' I had to quite agree, as Toadsworth wearing nothing but a trash can is very scary. And then Mario says—"

"Kirby!" interrupted Kirby, jumping up and down and pointing at the washer. "Kirby; poyo poy!"

Peach made a face as she cranked a nob on the washer labeled "Freezing-My-Ass-Off Cold". "It's not very nice to interrupt people, Kirby," she chided him, oblivious to what he was pointing at.

While we're at it, we may as well describe the washer's many bizarre settings: One such was the water amount used in a load, which the Mushroom princess set to "Lots and Lots." The other setting she selected was time, which was for "Two Hours." (**A/N**: Honestly, who sets it for _two_ hours? Peach isn't eco-friendly.)

Kirby cocked his head to one side, wondering how stupid and fluff-headed she really was. Okay, so she got a lot of crap from jealous Mario-fangirls and Peach-haters and feminists who disliked her getting constantly kidnapped, but honestly. Was she only tossed in _Brawl_ just to kick the crap out of every bad guy ever spawned? Kirby didn't like thinking. It made his head hurt. But Nana didn't look very happy as she began to wake up the very second Peach, unaware, hit the "Start" button.

Water gushed out from the inside and surged around the Ice Climber. In less than a second she was spinning around violently, pounding every other second on the glass door mutely and staring imploringly at Kirby.

Peach hadn't looked down yet.

"—Bowser kept pointing and laughing at us. He just _had _to plan his takeover the moment our beloved castle was in crisis. Actually, he was laughing so hard because our home was a goldfish bowl that it was relatively easy to attack him—yes? What is it, Kirby?"

Kirby, being several heads shorter that Peach, had to tug on the end of her gown to get her attention.

"Kirby! Poyo, poyo, poy! Kirby!" Kirby cried in whatever-the-hell language he spoke. Hey, we don't know, do we?

Peach raised a brow. "What's wrong?" she asked, kneeling down beside him. "Are you hungry?"

Kirby gave her a rather severe, unusually serious look. Without answering he grabbed her by the chin and swung her face around to so that she was able to look into the washer.

"Hey, what are you doi—? Oh."

Peach and Kirby were both now staring at Nana, who had given up on banging on the glass door and was spinning around the water current with the clothes. A wet bra smacked her in the head, along with several t-shirts.

"OH, SHIT!"

(**A/N**: Hey, look! Kirby spoke his first words! Hah, we're only kidding, that was Peach who said it for both of them.)

With lightning-fast reflexes Peach ran forward and tugged open the door. Water, clothes and Nana gushed out over the floor in one giant wave. As Peach scooped Nana up Kirby sucked air into his mouth, inflating his cheeks—

"No, Kirby! You can blow dry her later!"

Kirby's cheeks deflated. The Star Warrior dashed madly after Peach as she ran out of the room and up the stairs, clutching Nana under her arm like a football.


	5. Chores: PT 3

Hi, again. Lot's of updates, and very long ones at that. We're about halfway done, so please bear with us. R&R, please?  
Major THANK YOUS to everybody who has reviewed so far. We're honored by the support and glad that somewhere, there are people laughing occasionally as they read our fanfiction.

Are you ready for some fun?

* * *

**The Scene Of The Crime (AKA, Bathroom)**

Plumber, plumber and Pokémon stood before the empty, door-less doorframe.

Luigi scratched the back of his head. "Hey, Pikachu, didn't you tell us that the bathroom still had a door before you left?"

Pikachu flicked his tail and nodded. "Pik."

Mario looked apprehensive. "How bad do you think it is?" he gulped, imagining Hurricane Marth having torn apart the bathroom, accompanied by the aftershocks of Typhoon Zelda and Monsoon Wolf.

The three of them reluctantly stuck their heads in to see suds glittering across the floor. The shower curtains were slightly torn, everything was damp—

"They got the water everywhere except in the tub?!" Mario gasped angrily, tapping his foot.

Luigi whimpered. He stuttered nervously, "But I thought that they were only giving him a flee bath... What happened?"

Pikachu shrugged. "Pika, pikapi," Pikachu chirped, bounding inside and sniffing at the tiled, white floor at the base of the cabinets. The two brothers didn't look as eager to go in. Both of them backed out into the hallway and shook their heads firmly.

"No way," Mario stated blatantly, "nothing is getting me in there."

"I second that," Luigi agreed. Both backed up into the hallway standing on the drenched carpet firmly with their arms crossed. Pikachu's red sockets crackled menacingly.

"Pika..." Pikachu narrowed his eyes and pointed at the floor with a fat, stumpy beaver-ish arm. Both of the brothers glanced down. They were standing on water. Pikachu was standing on water. And water conducts electricity.

Luigi winced. "You wouldn't! Even if you did zap us, how do you know the carpet won't catch on fire?"

Before Pikachu could respond they heard what sounded like a stampede of buffalo coming from far down the hallway.

All three of them perked up.

"What do you suppose that was?" Mario whispered, glancing shiftily from right to left.

"I don't know," Luigi gulped. "If I didn't know any better I'd say that it was—"

"GET OUT OF THE WAY! DEAD PERSON COMING THROUGH!"

Luigi flung himself forward into the bathroom just as Peach stampeded where he had stood a second before. Mario had been a bit slow in the process of "jumping for your life" and had gotten trampled.

As the dust cloud cleared, Pikachu and Luigi spotted Mario paper-flat on the ground. Two tracks of footprints ran down his back: high heels and flats.

"Pikachu?" Pikachu blinked, padding out into the hallway and unsticking Mario from the floor. The Electric Mouse took hold of him and fanned him out like a bed sheet, and with a _pop_ Mario was three-dimensional again.

"W-was that _Peach_?!" Luigi exclaimed.

Mario swayed slightly as he stood again. "Yeah..." he muttered, shaking his head to clear it. "And Kirby. I'd recognized that brand of heels snapping my spine anywhere." He cracked his neck and sighed in relief. "That's much better!"

"Pika," pointed out Pikachu in a matter-of-fact tone. "Pi, pik pik, pikachu. Pikapi! Pika!"

"Huh?"

"What did he say?"

Pikachu stamped his feet. Some days, being a Pokémon just _sucked_. So for their benefit he mimed whacking something with a mallet.

"Nana?" Mario guessed. "Oh, wait! _That's_ what Peach was carrying?"

"Pika!" Pikachu nodded sagely and gave a thumbs-up.

Luigi glanced down the hallway where Peach and Kirby had disappeared to. "Do you suppose she's okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Well, she did say 'dead person,'" Mario argued. "But everyone knows she's a drama queen, so I don't think we'll have to worry."

Luigi chuckled nervously. "Yeah, that's a good one...'not worry'."

"PIKACHU!"

Mario and Luigi turned their attention back to Pikachu. The yellow Pokémon was gesturing angrily at the bathroom that needed desperate attending to.

Reluctantly, both of them snapped on a pair of rubber gloves over their gloves. (Woah, _what_?) Together they entered the bathroom, Luigi grabbing the door handle on the way in, yanking the door back off the ground and fitting it into the doorframe.

"There!" he proclaimed happily. "That looks like it'll stay!"

His grin changed into a terrified yelp as the door rocked off its disconnected hinges and fell inward this time, crushing Pikachu in the process. Both of the brothers swapped a look before shrugging without any concern.

"Let's decide what we're doing first," Mario suggested.

Luigi nodded. "Sure thing! Hey, Blinky, we'll get you out in a minute!" he added to the little flap of tail sticking out from under the door.

"_Piiiiik_—hack—_aaaa..._"

"Glad to hear you're okay!" Luigi yelled before turning back to his older brother. "Okay, so one of us has to clean the bathtub. Then we need to mop up the floor and clean the toilet."

Mario grimaced. "I'll mop the floor," he said quickly.

Luigi glared at him. "How come you get the easy chore?"

"Whaddaya mean, the "easy chore"? I have to re-wash and dry off every tile!"

"Yeah, but how do you know that the bathtub isn't crawling with flees or _Zelda_ cooties?"

"Because," Mario retorted through gritted teeth, "they were washed down the drain."

"How do you know that there aren't, like, _DEAD_ flees still floating in the water that she missed?"

"Flees are too tiny! Besides, the shampoo would have dissolved them!"

Luigi peered into the tub like someone preparing to dive into a man-eating shark tank. "She didn't drain the water," he pointed out unhappily. "It's so murky and disgusting-looking..."

"So? Just drain it," Mario huffed.

Luigi glanced from the water to Mario again. "Oh, _no_. I am _not_ sticking my hand in there."

For five minutes the two brothers argued vehemently over who cleaned what. Meanwhile, Pikachu had managed to crawl out from under the door, battered, bruised, and extremely pissed off that no one had bothered to help him. Only after Pikachu had unstuck his tail did he notice both of them still bickering over who got to do what. Pikachu hesitated, before his face split into an evil grin that made him look like the Chimera from New Pork City.

"And I'm telling _you _that Mom did not like me more as a kid—Eiiiiiahh!"

Mario and Luigi both let out yells as electricity shot up every nerve in their body. After several seconds both fell onto the wet tiles, charred and blackened from the Electric attack.

Pikachu crossed his arms, looking highly pleased with himself. He crossed the room until he stood at their heads. With a grin Pikachu put one foot on top of Luigi's back and raised an imaginary sword, crying, "Pikaaa!"

Pikachu dropped his pose and promptly stepped over Luigi's back to get near the toilet. Pikachu glared over his shoulder and stated, "Pikachu. Pika pikapi."

"Oww..." Mario whimpered. "Thunderbolt. I hate physics..."

Luigi sat up with a grunt and sighed. "You know what, I think I can live with the tub after all. Going to the ER isn't worth it."

Mario nodded in agreement. Glancing around shiftily, Mario stole a glance at Pikachu. Pikachu had his back turned as he scampered around the toilet, looking for a plunger and/or toilet scrubber.

Luigi followed Mario's gaze. Revenge sparked in his eyes like fire. He swapped a glance with his brother. "Are you thinking... what I'm thinking?"

"Oh, yes," Mario hissed fervently, a wistful gleam entering his eyes.

Quietly both got up and padded across the floor until they towered over an unsuspecting Pikachu.

Luigi and Mario shared another look before giving twin nods. Luigi cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Hey, you, Pikachu! Look! A distraction!"

(**A/N**: Does anybody else remember that game, Hey You Pikachu?)

Pikachu looked the other way, long enough for Luigi to whop Pikachu over the head and make the Electric Mouse slip. Quick as a flash, Mario grabbed Pikachu by the tail and dangled him over the toilet.

"It's a Pikachu plunger," Luigi snickered.

Mario grinned. Yelling in a faux-Itallian accent, "_Eets a Mario time!_" he then proceeded to dunk Pikachu's head in the toilet like medieval witch hunters would by using his tail.

"Pik—a—chu!" Pikachu wailed in a watery-sounding gurgle. His head was now being shoved down the plumbing.

The lesson gained? Pikachu makes an excellent cleaning product.

* * *

**Kitchen**

"I can't get the sink to work, Falco!"

Fox tugged viciously at the faucet. Several water droplets trickled out of the end of the pipe and fell on the large stack of dishes that needed to be washed. As for how many there were, well, let's just say that Falco lost count around forty.

Falco was currently drying the three plates that Fox hadn't managed to break out of frustration or "accidentally" drop.

Falco looked up in a bored way; then, sighing, "What the hell," he tossed the plate like a frisbee and watched it crash into the kitchen wall.

"Oops," he drawled. "One less plate to dry."

"More glass to get cut on," Fox added in annoyance. He held up an arm that was bandaged heavily and soaked with red. "Gawd, I hate glass cuts. They sting!"

"It'll sting less if you shut up and stop complaining," Falco retorted. He looked around the kitchen before skipping across the room and propping open the fridge. Falco, whistling, selected a banana before peeling it and taking a bite. "And the best part is that we actually get to eat on the job! Well, at least I do."

Fox glanced up from trying to gnaw the faucet off with his teeth. He had resorted to primitive instincts in order to turn the faucet on, which was stuck. "I can't get it to turn!" he whined, yanking at the tap again.

Falco sighed and took another bite. "Did you actually trying twisting it right and left?" he said through a mouthful of fruit.

"Of course," Fox replied. "I turned it in every single direction but water still won't come out!" With a mighty heave Fox actually managed to rip the faucet off. Tap water began to gush out. "Oh, wait, that did it. Now where's that soap?"

Falco's eyes bugged as the sink began to overflow. Like a mini Niagara Falls it fell over the edge of the counter top and pooled out onto the metallic, blue-white-gray tiles. In his shock Falco actually squeezed so hard on the banana that the rest popped out of its peel and flew into his open mouth. Falco coughed violently as he tried to swallow the banana whole.

"Oh, great going, genius," Falco spluttered, his eyes watering. "You'll definitely get the dishes cleaned in this! The only down side will be turning the Halberd into an aquarium!"

Fox barred his teeth as he stormed past, tearing open cabinets in his quest for dish soap. Now holding a bar of soap, he cried, "Victorious!" completely oblivious to the water now spilling everywhere.

"Idiot," snapped Falco as he ran over to the sink frantically and tried to jam the tap back on. "Please, can't you help me fix this?"

Fox looked around; "Here, I'll look for a bucket while you try to keep it steady!"

"Hurry up!"

Fox walked next to the fridge where the silverware drawer was kept. He yanked it out and turned it upside down, letting knives, forks and spoons fall onto the floor with a clatter. Pleased with himself, Fox skipped back over the Falco and shoved the wooden drawer under the running water.

Falco's arms trembled as he helped try to help hold the drawer up. "It's not working!"

"No, duh?" Fox snorted. "Hey, wait, hold this for one second!" He let go of the drawer and under its weight Falco fell onto his knees.

"The PAIN."

"Thank you," Fox beamed, whisking around and opening the pantry. He began rummaging through it, tossing random things over his shoulder as he searched, such things as a spatula, a mallard, cook books, even a Mr. Saturn.

"What could you POSSIBLY be LOOKING FOR?!" Falco roared as more water gushed out of the tap.

"This!" Fox pulled back his head and held up a red champagne bottle with a cork in it.

"What are we celebrating?" Falco asked scathingly. "Destroying the kitchen? We could have done that any day, Fox!"

"Shut up and help me open this," Fox snarled, chewing at the cork that clogged the glass bottle.

There was a somewhat hysterical note to Falco's voice as he snapped, "If you haven't noticed, the kitchen is flooding! What do you plan to do anyway? Get drunk?"

"I'm not an alcoholic, you all just assume that!" Fox retorted. "Oh, forget this!" He gave up trying to uncork it and instead swung it like a baseball bat into the wall. Glass flew everywhere; luckily, it didn't graze Fox or Falco but merely sank into the two-inch deep water.

"I'm coming!" With an almost ballerina-like jump Fox stepped next to the sink and shoved the cork into the faucet. Instantly the water stopped, though an ominous groan came from the pipe.

"There, that stopped it." Fox grinned proudly and crossed his arms. "I should get an award, or better yet, a statue erected in my honor!"

"And on the plaque we can write the words 'Fox the Stupid', due to the fact you started this in the first place!" Falco roared, dropping the drawer into the four-inch deep water.

Fox looked at the Mr. Saturn as it bobbed past. "How do we get rid of all of this? I can't drink that much water due to small bladder capacity."

Falco tapped Fox on the shoulder. "We may have other problems..."

A popular kinder gardener game is to take all the hand soap and water from the backyard hose and see how much of a soap mess it'll make for the adults to clean up. Yeah, well, that sort of thing just happened now, however unintentional. There were pale, transparent foam sheets like arctic glaciers stretched across the water. Both of the Star Fox members cocked their heads.

"Maybe Meta Knight has a drain or plug in the floor?" suggested Falco as he waded toward the table and chairs. "For emergencies?"

Fox grunted in agreement and bent over to scoop up a glass cup that had needed to be washed. "The best part is that they'll already be clean — all you have to do is dry them. I'm _done_."

Falco glared at him as he took a seat in one of the chairs. "Jerk," he retorted, throwing back his head with a wiry sigh. "Do you think Meta Knight will be upset? Maybe we can get away with blaming it on Diddy or Kirby..."

Fox wasn't listening to a word Falco was saying. In his search for the supposed "floor drainage plug" that must have been embedded in the tiles, Fox had taken a handful of bubbles and crafted himself a mustache and a perfect replica of Mario's hat.

"Hey, Falco! FALCO! Who do I look like?" Fox demanded.

Falco grinned roguishly as he raised a wing to his chin in mock concentration. "An Itallian hobo?"

Fox burst out laughing and lost his footing, falling on his back into the soapy water. Falco sighed and hopped off the water-logged chair. Crossing the room, he waded toward Fox until he shadowed him. "You're an idiot, aren't you?"

"We could start a club."

"We could," Falco agreed thoughtfully, interest glittering in his eyes.

"Or better yet..." Fox grinned.

**Five minutes later.**

"So, R.O.B., would you like some more tea?"

Fox and Falco sat around the kitchen table. After Fox had discovered the non-existent drain in the floor, with a tug all the water had simply whooshed into the floor. The tiles were still damp (as was everything else), so both of them had taken all the soap they could find and lathered the suds and bubbles into very realistic-looking figures of their _Brawl_ companions. All thirty-five, to be exact.

Fox was now twirling his finger around a very Hispanic mustache he had fashioned for himself. He grinned, throwing his feet up on the table and sipping happily at his tea. The tea in question was all of Peach's life devotions being poured down their throats.

Falco guzzled the entire cup down his throat and sat back up. He belched, and the mohawk he had perched atop his feathery blue head wobbled dangerously.

"You're excused," Fox slurred.

Falco snorted skeptically. "Speak for yourself. 'Rule number thirty-two, Fox!'" he parroted Meta Knight from earlier.

Fox made himself more comfortable and snatched up the little sugar cube bowl they had set on the tabletop. "What say you, Pit? Care for some more suga' cubes?" he offered the bubbly alter ego of the angel.

"Pit" didn't reply.

"No?" Fox mused, looking hurt. "Alright-y, then. ANYONE WANT SOME SUGAR?" he asked the other bubble statues loudly.

The other soap figures crammed around the extremely small pine table remained silent. A bubble popped on Meta Knight's shoulder.

"A sign! A sign!" Falco cried delightedly. He snatched the sugar cube bowl out of Fox's hands and yelled, "Catch!" before chucking it at the bubbly Meta Knight.

Being nothing more that water and soap, "Meta Knight" didn't react in time. Like a cannon ball being blasted at 198 mph, it sped forward and dented a large bowl-shaped hole, making a gap that they could see through where the Star Warrior's face should have been.

Both of them sprang up from their seats and peered through the hole.

"Woah. That should have killed him," Falco joked.

Fox raised a hand and waved it wildly in the air, jumping up and down like a three year old that had to go potty. "Wait, wait," he howled in laughter. "I appoint myself the new dictator of the prison ship dubbed 'Halberd'. And my first act as dictator will be... constant brawling!"

Falco let out a whoop and scooped a handful of bubbles out of Ike's head, so that the neck ended in a stub of foamy wetness.

Both of them stared at each other in a Western-esque stance. Fox took DK's thick arm and brandished it like a snowball.

"BUBBLE FIGHT!" both of them screamed simultaneously, and foam and soap flew like goose feathers from a pillow case into the air. Needless to say, the bubble-statues didn't last very long, and made excellent substitutes for weapons.

* * *

**Down A Random Hallway**

Pit was whistling merrily to himself as he slung his black bag over his shoulders like Father Christmas. He had already collected the trash out of several of the bathrooms (not including the one where the Mario brothers and Pikachu were) and intended to dump his current stash before slacking off.

As he walked down one of the hallways he spotted R.O.B. just ahead, fine-tuning one of his shoulder blades with some kind of electrical device. He hadn't taken notice of Pit walking toward him until he was only a foot away.

"HIYA BUDDY!" Pit screamed in a very peppy voice. He had a habit of greeting everybody as enthusiastically as if it were an airport reunion.

Taken by surprise, R.O.B. accidentally electrocuted himself. Pit watched as sparks shot off his body like some sort of fireworks show. Pit gasped suddenly and plopped his bag on the floor. He opened the Hefty trash bag and yanked out a bag of not yet used butter popcorn. (That's not very hygienic.) Grinning, he held the microwave popcorn over a short-circuiting R.O.B. and watched with round eyes as it began to cook.

It swelled rather quickly due to the heat and sparks shooting off of R.O.B. With a cry of delight, he tore the bag open with his teeth and plunged a hand in just as R.O.B. stopped getting electrocuted.

R.O.B. panted, completely covered in ash and smoking slightly where the little curly wire joined with his wheels and base. He coughed (or what we think is a cough).

"So what are you doing?" Pit asked through a mouthful of buttery popcorn.

R.O.B. glared at him. "I _was_ trying to rewire my arms in order to keep my circuits stabilized—"

"Yeah, yeah," Pit yawned breezily, chewing popcorn with his mouth open. "What else is new? Hey, wait! Aren't you supposed to be flying this thing with Yoshi?"

R.O.B. sighed. "Not yet," he admitted. "We're waiting for Meta Knight's orders."

"Meta Knight's orders?" echoed Pit. "What do you mean by that?"

R.O.B. blinked. "Sonic and Snake need to finish cleaning the windows before we can start piloting. Here, look out there," he added, gesturing toward a small porthole window indented into the wall. Curiously Pit and R.O.B. both peered outside to watch them scrub.

* * *

**Outside**

Snake groaned as a bead of sweat rolled down his face. "I'm dying," he moaned, pressing himself against the large, cool window. "God, help me, it's gotta be a million degrees out here..."

Out of the corner of his eye Sonic glared at Snake. "Shut up!" he huffed, taking his sponge and chucking it at Snake's head. Bullseye! It hit its target. "We've only been working for ten minutes! It's not even that hot out," he added.

"Speak for yourself," Snake snapped as the wet sponge slid of his cheek and plopped onto the window beside him. "You're not even _doing_ anything!"

The two of them looked like tiny black ants on the largest window of the ship: the visor-shaped glass that looped around the ugly mask-like nose of the ship. Sonic had spent the past few minutes leaning with his back against the vertical-ish window (making it perfect to **just barely **hold on), wearing a pair of shades and holding one of those silver, arrow-shaped metal sheets that helped reflect sunlight. (**A/N**: In the old movies people tried cooking eggs on these things, if that helps any bit. We have no idea what they're called, just that they're used for sun tanning.)

Sonic used his free hand to lower his sunglasses. "So?" he asked in a bored drawl. "_I_ finished already!"

"Really?" Snake snorted skeptically. "Show me."

"Fine! I will." Grunting, Sonic placed the metal sheet carefully off to the side and pointed a little ways off to his left. Puzzled, Snake followed his gaze.

"What do you think? Not bad, eh?" Sonic grinned cheerfully.

"'Not bad'?!" Snake roared. He pointed angrily at a spotless, dirt-free circle and hissed, "It's only three inches big! Is that what you've been DOING this whole time? That one tiny speck? I've been working my butt off using manual, laboring, ELBOW GREASE on THE ENTIRE WINDOW! It's only three inches, my God, it's pathetic..."

"Geez," Sonic sniffed disdainfully. "Stop being such a harsh critique. It took a lot of effort to make it look good! See?" He pulled a magnifying glass seemingly out of nowhere and shoved it under Snake's nose. "If you use this, I can prove to you that there's not an ounce of grime."

"Oh, really?" Snake snatched the magnifying glass and chucked it at the grass twenty meters down where the Halberd was parked. (Holy crap, that's like sixty feet.) Sonic's eyes followed it as it fell onto the ground below with a tiny, echoing _clunk_. "Here, let me _help_!"

Snake them spit directly on the spot that Sonic had made perfect.

"Hey!" Sonic whined sulkily. "It took me two minutes and fifty-four seconds to clean that..."

Snake slapped the sponge into Sonic's hand. "Start helping and pulling your own weight, hedgehog!" Swearing under his breath, the ninja sidled back toward his own half of the window and dunked his sponge into the water bucket.

Sonic took off his shades and bit back a retort. He really didn't want to work. He always left this sort of stuff to Tails. Winning races and kicking enemy butt was his thing, _Not manual labor! _he seethed silently. Just as Sonic prepared to soak his own sponge an idea came to him. Grinning, Sonic dunked the sponge into the bucket and wrung it. Quietly stealing a glance at Snake to make sure he wasn't being watched, Sonic—again—seemingly pulled out of nowhere super strong glue.

Carefully he glued the dry side of the sponge and stuck it to one of his shoes...

Snake, meanwhile, had been ranting steadily under his breath about "dedication, honor, teamwork and consistency." He was probably referring to his days in the FOXHOUND espionage unit . He _couldn't have possibly _been referring to the Halberd, as it no loner stood for any of those things, but rather a wild struggle of survival as _Brawl_ character argued with _Brawl_ character under the non-watchful eyes of Meta Knight.

He glanced up, about to criticize Sonic incase he was slacking off again and jaw-dropped.

"What are you doing?"

Sonic looked up. He had finally accomplished glueing two sponges to the soles of his red shoes. Currently he was dipping his left foot in the soap bucket while using his right foot for balance.

"Eh?" Sonic grinned slyly. "Are you going to start yelling at me for working now?"

"You _mean_ for wasting time!" Snake retorted. "You're wasting water, soap and sponges!"

"Wrong again, my friend. I'm a genius."

"Actually," Snake added loftily, making a pose as he thrust out his chest proudly, "I'm the genius here. My IQ is over 180! So whatever you're doing can't be smart."

"It can be _creative_!" Sonic replied cheerfully as he sloshed his other foot in the bucket, getting suds everywhere. "I intend to clean my half of the window in five seconds flat."

Snake rolled his eyes. "Speed can get you only so far in life, Sonic. _Speed_ doesn't get taxes done or bills paid. _Speed_ just tends to make you look like a know-it-all ass."

"You mean a _smart _ass," Sonic corrected him. "For I shall do the unthinkable and set a standard that the Guinness Book of World Records can't possibly ignore!"

Snake snorted skeptically as he plunged his own sponge back into the bucket and set to work at scrubbing his half of the window. "It took you three minutes just to clean that three inch diameter circle! There's no way you could possibly finish your half of the window that quickly. Why do you have sponges on your feet, anyway?" he tacked on reluctantly, a bit frightened to find out.

Sonic crouched in a runner's stance, facing the window. "Watch and learn, buddy!" he called over, raising his left hand and holding up three fingers.

Then two fingers.

Then one finger.

"FIIIIIRE!" He vanished in a blue blur, leaving nothing but a puddle behind. Like a speeding train he blazed atop the windows, able to stay on a diagonal run because he was moving quickly enough to outwit gravity. His feet, now weighted down with soapy sponges, slid across the widow as he ran and scrubbed at the same time.

Snake's jaw dropped an inch lower every thirty seconds as, miraculously enough, Sonic was indeed getting his side of the window done. Ten seconds later Sonic skidded to a halt beside Snake, beaming proudly at his masterpiece.

"I call it art," Sonic declared, pointing at the glittering window.

"I call it a mistake," Snake said uncertainly. "I thought the others were being honest when they called you "the stupid-looking one"—this is just un-dignifying and UNFAIR."

"Who called me stupid?" Sonic bristled angrily, whipping around to poke Snake roughly in the chest. "Wait till I stomp on them, and _then_ we'll see who looks stupid!"

"Like I'd betray a fellow _Brawl_ character," Snake replied solemnly, crossing his arms.

Sonic held a fist to his face and Snake eeped, "It was DK!"

Cracking his knuckles, Sonic turned around and began to stomp off, making a _squelching_ noise every time he walked because the idiot forgot he still had sponges attached to his shoes. So it was no surprise when he slid backwards with a girlish scream and thudded on his back.

Snake let out a howl of laughter as he doubled over clutching his gut. "You should be a pro ice-skater!" he hooted. "I'll give you an eight for the fall and a two for the landing!"

Sonic rubbed his head as he struggled to sit up. "DK can wait," he decided huffily, struggling to stand up without falling back over. He hopped on one foot briefly as he ripped the sponge off his shoe, then the other. Growling, he swung around and socked Snake in the cheek with a crack that sounded as if he had his jaw broken. Snake skidded to a halt several feet away. Instinctively he reached for a hand grenade and chucked it at Sonic.

* * *

**Inside**

Pit and R.O.B. watched from a far, safe distance (behind the small porthole window) as smoke rolled off the large window and shielded Sonic and Snake from view.

"My mom would have called that PG-13," Pit said calmly, shaking the empty popcorn bag upside down in case he missed any kernels.

"I didn't have a mom. I was solely invented for the destruction of trophy-kind. And please don't do that," R.O.B. added as Pit tried to lick the inside of the popcorn bag for the last traces of butter. "You're not a starving savage. It's not necessary to do that."

"Says you," Pit muffled through the bag, it covering his head completely. (**A/N**: Why not cut out some eye holes while you're at it, eh, Pit?) "How do you know that the next time someone treads on Meta Knight's cloak he won't starve us? And it's not like you care—you can't even eat!"

If robots could blush then R.O.B. would have just done so. Instead he settled for glaring coolly at Pit. "I sacrifice eating and drinking for intelligence, weaponry and flight."

"Big deal." Pit yanked the bag off his head and flapped his wings. "I can fight and fly and think."

R.O.B. bit back an exasperated sigh. "This conversation is going in circles."

Pit, finally having decided there was nothing edible left in the popcorn back, returned it where he had found it—in the trash. "I'm sorry," he apologized reluctantly. "I just realized how much it sucks to be you—not being able to eat and all—, so I pity you."

As R.O.B. began to say, "It's not importa—" the ship lurched slightly underneath them as it had done yesterday in the conference room.

R.O.B. looked up in surprise at the ceiling. "Is Yoshi already getting ready to fly? But I thought that we were supposed to wait for..." He trailed off uncertainly and decided against it. "Then Meta Knight must be up there as well. Oh, well. Then I better go. Bye, Pit."

"Take care, handicapped!" Pit called after him cheerfully as R.O.B. wheeled down the opposite corridor and out of sight. Once again Pit continued to whistle and made a left, pausing outside the doorless bathroom a few moments later.

"My second-to-last stop," he told to himself determinedly. "The bathroom. I wonder if Mario, Luigi and Pikachu came by yet? And why the heck is the door missing?"

He poked his head inside.

The door was still on the floor, but the rest of the tiled room gleamed spotless. Its tiles shone as white as Wolf's pelt (not that Pit knew that) and the bathtub was empty. Mario had won Luigi over and supervised his brother as he had scrubbed down the tub while complaining loudly. Not a hair, not a dust bunny, not a speck of dirt anywhere in the bathroom. Pit was impressed.

Casually he strolled up to the trash can beside the toilet and emptied its contents into his own Hefty bag. Suddenly he felt his gaze drawn to the toilet.

_Drip._

The faucet leaked slightly over the sink. Pit watched as the droplet rolled down the drain into the plumbing.

He _really_ had to pee.

Cautiously, he glanced at the entrance to the bathroom. The door was still on the floor. It was pointless to say he wasn't hoping the door would magically pick itself back up and rehang itself so he could have some privacy. But doors didn't do that. And his bladder couldn't wait.

"Anyone could just walk in," Pit fretted, jumping slightly on the spot. "And I've got to _goooo_!"

Would he really risk it? The boys, if they walked in on him, would laugh. Any (or all of) the girls would hunt him down and beat the crap out of him. Meta Knight would— Pit broke off, shivering. He didn't even want to think about what Meta Knight might do if he walked in. It was that or walk twenty miles to find the next bathroom on the Halberd.

_Drip._

"I've got to _PEE_!" Pit wailed, and throwing the consequences to the wind he pulled up the toilet seat.

What he saw would scar him for life and give his nightmares nightmares. Remember the "toilet plunger" episode from earlier in this fanfiction? It seemed that Mario and Luigi had been careless and forgotten to clean up.

Pikachu's tail, legs and rump stuck directly out of the toilet bowl while his face, ears, and front paws were out of sight (presumably stuck in the plumbing). The moment Pit had lifted the toilet seat up Pikachu had sensed the change of lighting like a trapped coal miner, and began to feebly kick his back legs. There came an odd gurgling noise came from below in the bowels of the toilet, and bubbles began to form around Pikachu as he yelped and cried for help. It's amazing that Pikachu hadn't downed yet.

He just barely heard Pikachu's bubbly, ghostly wail through the water.

"_P-e-e-e-e-e...k-a-a-a-a-a...c-h-h-u-u-u-u-u..._"

Mortified, Pit quickly forgot his desire to go to the bathroom. Without thinking he yanked the toilet handle and flushed thirty-seven times consecutively. Pikachu began to struggle and kick more and more as the water in the bowl emptied out and gushed down the plumbing. He spun slightly and slowly, as if the front end was jarred in the plumbing and stuck. It must have been very uncomfortable.

Pit gave a high-pitched scream before slamming the toilet lid down on Pikachu again and backing up against the wall. Unfortunately, Pikachu's tail was still sticking out from underneath the lid, and what was more water now began to gush out of the toilet from being clogged up.

"HOLY SHIT! IT'S GOING TO EAT ME!" Pit yowled, as he edged toward his trash bag and lugged it over his shoulder like a mallet waiting to be swung. It looked like something out of a horror movie. If it had a title, viewers would cringe in terror at the sound of the words: "_Revenge of the Beaver-People From the Plumbing._"

All of the sudden Pikachu's tail _twitched_. Water continued to gush down the side of the toilet like a waterfall. More tenderly so, Pit could just hear it, a noise so small that one wouldn't have noticed had he not been trying to confirm his own pulse (just to be positive he was still breathing):

_Drip._

"_P-i-i-i-i-k-a...p-i-k-a-C-H-U-U-U-U!_" Pikachu gurgled from inside the toilet. The toilet lid vibrated slightly as Pikachu kicked with his back legs.

Pit turned paper white from fear and wet himself. With a scream he trampled the door and ran out of the bathroom, turning the lights off as he whisked by the switch. He didn't stop running until he had gone down two hallways, made a right, and stopped outside the large slide-open metal door that led to the ground floor exit. Panting, he leaned against the wall and swore curses under his breath so bad that we couldn't have typed them even if we had wanted to.

Three minutes of consoling himself later, Pit stood, dusting off his tunic/toga (It's one of them, right?) and taking a deep yoga breath.

"I'll just p-pretend that never happened. E-Ever," he vowed as he stumbled to press the button that would open the door. "Now, I'll I've got to do is go dump this trash in a nearbye stream, get the rest from the kitchen and chuck it in the woods."

Without looking he pressed the large red button and heard it slide open; then, still looking back over his shoulder, he took a step forward.

Like a leaf being caught on a breeze, Pit was sucked backwards by the ship's slipstream as he billowed toward the rear of the ship.

The Halberd was in flight.

* * *

**Meanwhile, Up On The Control Deck**

Yoshi gasped for breath as he ran down the hallway.

"Look out! Get out of the way!"

Jigglypuff and Toon Link just barely had time to look up before springing out of Yoshi's path, just as he stampeded down one of the many hallways onboard.

_What the hell is going on?_ Yoshi paused to catch his breath and glanced out a window. Clouds streamed out below like a white river made of cotton candy. Was this Skyworld? R.O.B. wasn't supposed to be piloting yet!

So why had the ship vibrated earlier? And then—out of the blue—why had the ship taken off?

This was what the green dinosaur intended to find out, because Yoshi knew for a fact that R.O.B. said he would wait for Meta Knight's orders, and that _he_ had said that he would wait for Meta Knight's orders too.

Yoshi put up another burst of speed and skidded to a halt in the conference room. Pressing the button that would activate the lift, he waited impatiently for it to clatter to life. When the door slid open Yoshi threw himself inside, trying to reclaim his breath. Vibrations rattled through his feet and down every bone in his body as the lift went up. A few seconds later the door flung open and Yoshi burst out.

"Yoshi! HELP US!"

The cry came from Meta Knight, who was trying to hack a Red Pikmin in half with Galaxia while using a video camera in his other hand like a meat cleaver. The attempt wasn't very effective or pretty.

"No!" Olimar shouted, ramming into Meta Knight and causing him to miss. Instead, the blade's golden tip sank into one of the control panels and began to hiss menacingly. 50,000-year-old swords make excellent conductors for electricity. Meta Knight let out a yelp as he was electrocuted on the spot.

Yoshi, his eyes wide, watched Meta Knight flash black-and-white like Christmas lights (perfectly outlining his skeleton every other second; traumatizing, we know). Then, with a shudder, Meta Knight crashed onto the floor, completely buried by a multi-colored wave of Red, Blue, Yellow, White and Purple Pikmin.

It seemed that the Pikmin had been practicing their multiplication tables. There must have been at least fifty, ten of each color, rampaging through the control room like kids on a school field trip. R.O.B. was attempting to vaporize several Yellow Pikmin; but where five yellow spirits floated up with wails it seemed that ten more replaced their fallen comrades.

Olimar was blowing on his whistle to try and control the over-breeding hoard, but it wasn't really doing much other than making the Pikmin wilder. They yanked levers and stomped on buttons, or ripped off pieces of machinery from the wall and practiced sword-fighting.

Yoshi, for a moment, could do nothing more intelligent other than stare dumbly.

Meta Knight struggled to sit up with one hand while grabbing a bud-headed Blue Pikmin with his other.

"What happened?" Yoshi yelled, sticking out a foot to trip fourteen Pikmin as they raced by.

Meta Knight let out a yell of frustration as he jumped at several of the Pikmin; at the same time an inquisitive Yellow Pikmin had found the dial that turned on the radio. (Like a car radio, only bigger and louder.) Without realizing what it was the Pikmin jumped on the button.

"HAWAIIAN ROLLER COASTER RIDE!" the music blared from a radio in the ceiling.

"Ask Olimar!" Meta Knight called back, as the Pikmin below him suddenly regrouped in larger numbers. As one would see at a rock concert, the Pikmin below (due to their incredible strength) managed to support Meta Knight and pass him through the room over their heads, cheering, "Pikmin! Pikmin!" as they did so.

"Olimar!" Yoshi yelled, as he attempted to wade through the sea of Pikmin, "what happened?"

"Don't ask me! It's not my fault!" Olimar screamed over the blaring music.

Meta Knight let out a derisive bark of laughter. "Not your fault? Quite the contrary, Olimar, you're the reason my ship is doing loop-de-loops!"

As Meta Knight spoke the swarm of Pikmin lifted R.O.B. up and carried him toward the controls. Their presumed "leader," a Red Pikmin, gave a cry of delight as it sprang on the steering wheel. In response the entire Halberd, now flying at mach speeds, began to lurch forward like a roller coaster beginning to tip up at a 90 degree climb.

"_A wiki wiki mai lohi lohi__  
La we mai iko papa he na lu  
Pi'i na nalu la lahalaha  
O ka moana hanupanupa  
Lalala i kala hanahana  
Me ke kai hoene i ka pu'e one  
Helehele mai kakou e  
Hawaiian roller coaster ride!_" the radio sang out.

"I'm going to be air sick," Olimar moaned.

Oddly enough, they were going so fast that everybody on the ship at that moment was hardly effected, albeit the random object falling over. Some of them were either too busy or listening to iPods and didn't notice a thing—that, or they thought that the ship flying early was natural.

The Halberd's speeded-up flight pattern resumed normal as it fell back into a straight line. The Pikmin whooped with glee and continued to toss Meta Knight over their heads.

"I'm going to kill you!" R.O.B. hissed as he hovered just barely over their heads. The Pikmin below were currently throwing themselves at him in attempt to grab on.

"_There's no place I'd rather be  
Than on the surfboard out at sea  
Lingering in the ocean blue  
And If I had one wish come true  
I'd surf till the sun sets  
Beyond the horizon!_" the radio piped up in full song.

Yoshi felt an icy prickle of nervousness. They were forgetting something, but wha—

"Meta Knight? What about Snake and Sonic? They're out there _cleaning the windows_!"

Meta Knight let out a gasp that turned into a roar of fury as Galaxia was separated from him and carried in the opposite direction over the heads of the Pikmin.

"Damn it, you little savages! Give me back my sword!"

"They're not savages!" Olimar protested weakly, as he tried more fruitless whistles.

Meta Knight glanced fleetingly at Yoshi. "I don't know..."

* * *

**Outside With The Cleaning Crew**

When we last left off with Sonic and Snake, the two of them had been brawling with each other and wrestling in a dust cloud of fists and grenades. Snake was very fond of grenades. Anyway, the sudden take off caused by the Pikmin had made cleaning—let alone fighting—just a tad bit harder. Currently the two were pressed against the giant window with their backs to the ship and their faces being buffeted with oncoming wind. They had just endured the perilous loop-de-loop.

Sonic's mouth flapped around as he was pelted with searing gusts.

Snake wasn't much better off.

"THIS IS AWESOME!" Sonic whooped over the roar of gale, narrowing his eyes to keep flying debris and leaves off of his cataracts.

"THIS IS NOT AWESOME!" Snake raged, narrowing his eyes to keep the sting out. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOSHI AND R.O.B. ARE FLYING WHEN THEY KNOW THAT WE'RE OUT HERE CLEANING THIS F—"

His sentence turned into a violent hack as a whole swarm of mosquitos had the misfortune of getting in the way of the Halberd's chaotic flight pattern. (The mosquitoes are our version of a parental block.) Like bullets, most of them impaled the hull around Snake's head. We say "most" because a few dozen actually disappeared into Snake's open mouth. This is the reason why you don't complain while flying. Take a lesson from the birds. And speaking of birds...

Sonic glanced over at Snake and tried to point at him; his arm, instead, rammed into the Halberd like a paperclip on a magnet. Sonic wasn't discouraged from making fun of Snake, however.

"HAH! IT SERVES YOU RIGHT FOR WHINING JUST BECAUSE I'M BETTER THAN YOU—"

Sonic stopped as he heard a loud thudding noise on the other side of his head. Turning it ever so slowly against the force of the wind, he looked away from Snake—laughing nonetheless while Snake choked—and tried to see what it was.

A black bird had hit the window not even a foot from Sonic's face and had presumably died from the collision. Sonic went cross-eyed as he stared at it. It was just _there_. A dead bird. That had hit the window. Within touching distance of his "handsome" face. It was dead; and as trapped there as he and Snake were. And it was _dead_.

Sonic whipped his head the other way and stared desperately at Snake. "THERE'S A DEAD BIRD NEXT TO ME! WHAT DO I DO?!"

"DO?!" Snake repeated. His voice was raspy from having inhaled mosquitoes. "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? GIVE IT A FUNERAL? IT'S ON _YOUR_ SIDE OF THE WINDOW TO CLEAN SO IT'S YOUR PROBLEM!"

"B-BUT IT'S REALLY CREEPING ME OUT—" Sonic began to yell back when he heard a _ripping_ noise like a sheet of paper. He was scared to know what had happened to the bird, but he forced himself to turn his head once more against the wind and look.

All that remained of the bird was a decapitated skeleton with a few feathers clinging feebly to the bone marrow and slithers of skin, flapping like a kite in the breeze. Sonic began to whimper when he realized that he could see through it. It had no organs; no body fluids; no nothing.

"ZOMBIE BIRD!" Sonic wailed into the pounding wind.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Snake screeched back.

"I—IT'S—THERE'S ONLY BONES LEFT! THE WIND RIPPED EVERYTHING _ON_ IT AND _IN_ IT OFF LIKE VELCRO! AND IT'S SCARING ME!"

Sonic looked at the bird nervously. The bird's skeletal wings were spread out on either side of it, as if it was hugging the ship. Suddenly, a violent impulse of air made the bird's head crack around and face him, beak-to-nose.

Needless to say, Sonic began to scream.

* * *

**Back In The Control Room**

R.O.B. had managed to hover close enough to turn the radio off while Meta Knight and Yoshi had managed to decline the insane population of rampaging Pikmin. At Oilmar's persistence, they had left only five alive—one of each color. Olimar had reacted to each one dying as if the others had been assaulting him with weapons of mass destruction. Finally, panting and clutching the remaining five, he protected them from any farther attacks.

Meta Knight had taken over the wheel and was landing it just as Sonic had begun to scream outside. The Halberd jerked slightly as it grazed the treetops of The Jungle. Slowly, Meta Knight steered his ship into a clearing devoid of trees and lush undergrowth. It landed smoothly on the peaty, musty ground and fell into grateful silence.

The moment Meta Knight deemed it safe enough to let the ship be left alone, he whipped around and stalked up to Olimar, who hugged his remaining closely while they whimpered and struggled to break free.

"What were you thinking, letting them be off on their own?" Meta Knight demanded. "Do you realize that those—those—those _plant-people_ nearly got us killed?"

"I can think of worse times," Olimar replied breezily. He ruffled the flowering stem of the single Blue Pikmin, and it cooed affectionately in return. "These little guys are actually dead useful. I would be a wreck without them. I take them with me everywhere, wherever I can."

Meta Knight sighed in a meditative way. "Then why didn't you have them with you earlier?"

"I let them be for a few minutes so they could use the bathroom!" Olimar snapped in exasperation. "I can't go with them everywhere! So, I went to fetch the vacuum while I waited, and when I came back they had all left."

Yoshi stretched as he flopped onto the floor in exhaustion. "Can they just—you know—use photosynthesis or something?"

"Ivysaur has a plant on his head and he doesn't use photosynthesis," Olimar replied tetchily. "Just because they look like plants doesn't mean that they are or that they don't have feelings!"

The Pikmin wailed in agreement.

Meta Knight gave a low mutter of what sounded like "I don't care...". After a moment of what appeared to be a mental debate, he asked in a strained voice, "Did it ever occur to you...that they tried to use that...as an _excuse to get away?_ Actually, just forget I said that," he tacked on, as if an afterthought. "They're not smart enough to do that."

"My angels would _never_ dream of doing something than heinous," Olimar vowed fondly. "And they are smart!"

The Pikmin, however, glared at Meta Knight menacingly and hissed like angry cats. Then, with a yelp, the Red Pikmin launched itself onto Meta Knight and began to whap him with its leafy top. The other four began to chant and joined it by latching onto him like bloodsucking leeches.

"Oww!" Meta Knight tried to flail Galaxia around and swat at them, but kept missing. "Olimar, call them off!"

Olimar reluctantly blew his whistle (he had half a mind to let them continue) and the Pikmin, mutinously, clambered off Meta Knight and lined up single file behind Olimar. In their own unique language the Pikmin began squealing and pointing at Meta Knight. The Star Warrior cocked his head.

R.O.B. stared at them. "I don't speak Pikmin," he said uncertainly. "And I doubt that Snake would be able to, even if he _can _use six different languages fluently. Can you commune with them, Olimar?" he asked the space captain politely.

Olimar snorted. "What do you want me to do? Grow a plant out of my head and learn Pikmineese?"

"Talk with them," Meta Knight ordered. "Question them. Ask them why they decided to turn my ship into an amusement park."

Olimar jerked his head away and turned his back onto the other three. "Very well. It seems that I'm out-voted." He slowly turned toward the Pikmin and made an odd, vibrating noise like a cicada. The Pikmin responded in similar-sounding chirrups while gesturing to Meta Knight. Olimar hesitated, then chipped in a high-pitched gurgling noise. In response the Pikmin shreed like birds and jumped up and down furiously, crying, "Pikmin! Pikmin! Pik, Pikmin!"

The scene was remarkable to watch, if not a bit mortifying.

Yoshi and R.O.B. quickly hastened back a few feet. Meta Knight narrowed his yellow eyes and remained in the same spot, consciously aware of the bruises under his armor they had already given him. But he wasn't a coward, so he wasn't moving an inch. Nope. "Well?"

Olimar straightened and spun around to face his companions. "Er," he began, "it seems that...they were bored."

"Bored?" Meta Knight echoed.

"BORED?" R.O.B. and Yoshi both repeated in dumbfounded tones.

"Elaborate, please," Meta Knight said warily.

"Well," Olimar drawled, tapping his glass helmet thoughtfully, "most of them said that the Halberd's a ship, and since they got it in their heads to do whatever they wanted to on _my_ ship, they assumed that the same rules applied here. Obviously, they haven't seen your rule book," he added slyly. "Oh, yeah, the Yellow Pikmin over here"—he pointed at the bulb-headed, long-eared Pikmin—"she says that you suck. The Red one added on that you're a boring old geezer that's clueless. 'Get a life,' the Blue one told me. Let me see... 'Stop screwing up ours!' was what the Purple Pikmin over there was screaming. 'Ban weed whackers or suffer the consequences!' was what the White Pikmin over there asked me to tell you. The Red Pikmin was also upset that you killed all of their brethren and sisters. Generally stuff like that."

"But Meta Knight doesn't have a weed whacker," R.O.B. pointed out idly over Meta Knight's gasp.

"I assume they meant his sword." Olimar shrugged. "Well, there ya go. Now, we're going to go finish our chore. C'mon, gang."

Olimar blew his whistle and headed for the lift. Obediently, the Pikmin charged after him in a single-file line. As each walked past Meta Knight they stuck their tongues out (unnoticed by Olimar, of course). The last in line, a Blue Pikmin, stuck out his tongue before kicking Meta Knight in the shin.

Meta Knight doubled over as the five trailed into the lift, chatting to each other in chirpy, happy voices. The door slid shut and went downstairs, leaving Meta Knight, Yoshi and R.O.B. alone in the control center.

Yoshi rushed over and placed a hand on Meta Knight's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Just _peachy_," Meta Knight groaned. (Somewhere, Peach sneezed.) "Thanks, Yoshi. You know, maybe I should just build them some kind of room that can distract them from demolishing my ship. I honestly don't feel like buying another Halberd on eBay. It took a toll on my savings."

R.O.B. returned to the wheel. "We're not far from The Plains," he remarked. "Should we just proceed ahead of schedule?"

"No thanks, R.O.B.," Meta Knight answered as he stood shakily. "We'll stay landed until I'm positive that Snake and Sonic are finished."

"Do you think they're okay?" Yoshi worried nervously.

R.O.B. waved a hand dismissively. "I'm certain they're fine," he assured them cheerily. "Remember, it takes a lot more than a little wind to kill us."

Meta Knight and Yoshi nodded in agreement.

The Star Warrior hesitated, then took the video camera he had been safeguarding and placed it on top of the control panel below what looked like a tv. "Don't touch, please. I'm going to view this later for, er, evidence."

"Evidence?" Yoshi repeated. "For what, pray tell?"

"You don't want to know. Trust me. Well, then, I better get ready to make lunch." Meta Knight stretched tiredly before dragging himself toward the lift. "You guys can wait till later; I'd bet Galaxia that not everyone has finished their chores yet." Saying this, he whirled his cape and reappeared in the lift, mainly for the effect. He pressed the button and the lift clattered to life, taking him back downstairs.

Snake and Sonic, minus the bird incident, were fine other than a little ruffled. Pit, on the other hand...

* * *

**In The Eyes Of The Guilt**_**less**_

The front door to the Halberd flashed green, and a second later it opened, revealing a very pissed off and tired Pit standing in the doorway. Snarling, he slumped inside as the door closed behind him. One-handed he had clung to the back end of the Halberd, but not before flying to keep up with the ship's crazy flight pattern. His left wing was bent at an angle like a broken twig and he had ripped fringes and holes in his tunic/toga thing. Tears welled in his eyes as he slumped against the door, panting.

"R.O.B.! YOSHI!" he roared in aggravation. "I'm going to _kill_ you later."

But first lunch, then murder. The thought of food made Pit's mouth water. Then he remembered who was cooking it and began to whimper.

He may as well go spy on Meta Knight in the kitchen while collecting trash. Yep, that would be his brilliant excuse to sneak a peek at what Meta Knight was cooking. If it didn't look edible then he would fake diarrhea and sneak food from the fridge later.

Grinning from ear-to-ear, the angel seemed to recover from his soreness and skip happily down another hall where he was sure the kitchen was. And minutes later he was standing before the door. Pit inhaled, expecting to smell food and was disappointed and surprised when he only picked up the scents of soap and wine.

Wine was a drink technically, but he could have gotten champagne from a bar if he felt like it.

"Outrage! Scandal!" he huffed indignantly, and burst the door open without think. "Drinking on the job, eh, Meta Kn—iiiiightt!"

CRASH. He slid clumsily backwards and fell onto his spine with a crack.

"I think I just broke something important..."

Dazed, Pit struggled into an upright sitting position to see what had caused him to fall and look like an idiot. Bubbles lined the floor like an ocean of foam and suds. In the very center of the kitchen there was a dome-shaped structure of soap that looked like an igloo. On top of the dome shaped structure there was a flag sticking out. Not farther away was a very familiar person laying on his back (on the table) with a white flag in one hand and an apple in his mouth like a roasted Medieval pig.

"FOX?"

Fox reacted slightly to the sound of his own name by jerking up into a sitting position. He spat the apple out of his mouth and yelled, "Oi! Falco, you have company!" before flopping back down and putting the apple back int his mouth.

What Pit assumed was an "igloo" made a strangled hissing noise. "Why do I have to answer the door, you lazy bum?"

The voice seemed to be coming from inside the monstrosity. Suddenly, Falco Lombardi walked right through the wall and appeared outside the bubbly igloo, looking cross.

"Great," Falco groaned, "now I've got to remake that wall. Doors are out of the question, so I hate leavi..." He looked up in surprise at Pit and beamed. "Hi, Pit! Welcome to our fake-arctic, bubbling paradise!"

"We take cash or Visa," Fox added without looking up.

Pit took a shocked step back. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Well," the bird answered, flexing his wing tips individually, "after my fleet of polar bears defeated Fox's whale platoon and arctic seal armada he surrendered." He paused, watching, as Fox raised his white flag and waved it vigorously. "Thus, we are now sacrificing their leader, Fox McCloud, and offering him as an appetizer to the sun goddess Amaterasu. We hope to please Her Greatness so that she'll melt the last of the arctic glaciers and make it possible to end the Ice Age in the kitchen, thus letting our civilization thrive once more."

"Yeah, what he said!" Fox piped up as he spat the apple into his palm again to speak.

"Hey, sacrifice, put that back in your trap! You're displeasing Ammy!" Falco laughed, and Fox instantly stuffed the red apple back into his trap as told while grinning.

Pit waved his hands. "Oh, no, no, _no_, I got that part," Pit said. "It's obvious that's what you two were doing. Only stupid people couldn't tell that Fox was a sacrifice, or that the dome of soap was really an army base!"

"My thoughts exactly!" Falco agreed. "See, this is why the world needs more people like us: guys that can act like jerks and enjoy themselves while understanding other jerks!"

"That is the secret to life," Fox declared sagely, his head hanging over the tabletop.

"What did I just say about keeping silent?"

"Sorry."

Pit smiled. "Well, I was actually wondering how you made this masterpiece. Where did all of the soap come from?"

"Fox did it, actually. He broke the sink and then somehow managed to spill all of the soap into the water."

Pit looked around admiringly and scooped up a handful of soap. He then threw it over his shoulder and began to wade toward the trash can, jabbering all the while. "You guys could make people out of these! You already have an igloo."

Fox and Falco exchanged superior looks that were so smug that it should have been illegal. Falco fixed Pit with his blue eyes. He smiled coolly and beckoned to Pit.

Puzzled, Pit slung the kitchen trash bag over his shoulder and stepped carefully through the bubbles.

"You want to see something cool?" Falco's eyes flashed as he spoke.

"Sure!" Pit agreed.

Falco swapped another significant look with Fox before Fox joined them, spitting the apple out again as he did so.

"Watch," Fox whispered, and made a beeline for the pantry. He opened the doors and reached inside; at last, he found what he was looking for and dragged out something closely resembling a coffin. Pit glared at the two suspiciously.

"Did you...?"

"Behold!" Falco cried, and he unlatched the lock on the lid and swung it open.

Pit's jaw dropped, as did the Hefty bag he was carrying. "Holy shit... You killed Meta Knight!"

It was probably at that instant that fangirls all over the world suffered from panic attacks, heart attacks, plus a saddening depression that made living not even worth it because he was dead. Thousands now would realize that their dreams had just died along with Meta Knight; and now, we ask that you all join us in mourning him and the crushed wishes of obnoxious _Brawl_ video gamers. (**A/N**: It's also very accurate to say that Sam's dream died then too.)

Fox and Falco let out barks of laughter. Sure enough, resting in the pit of the coffin was Meta Knight's lifeless, limp, cold, _wet_ and _transparent_ body. It also looked like it was beginning to melt. Pit knew that corpses eventually disintegrated over time and rotted underground, decaying into food for the worms, but _melting_? If he was related to the Wicked Witch of the West then this would have made perfect sense. Sadly, however, no family trees for Meta Knight existed at the time to confirm this theory. So: _what the hell_?

Pit scratched his forehead uncertainly and poked Falco in the shoulder. "Hey, dead guys aren't supposed to look like that, are they?"

"It's actually a bubble replica of Meta Knight," Fox sniggered. "I threw a sugar bowl at him earlier and it punched a hole through his head where the brain should have been. We resigned ourselves to his death and locked him in a casket for safe keeping."

Pit whistled. "The police are going to be after you for murder on the first degree."

Falco let out a crow of laughter as he leaned on Fox for support. "We _are_ the police!"

"Well, chief," Pit said as he began to walk toward the door (Fox and Falco still giggling hysterically), "I'd hurry up and take care of the scene of the crime, because the dictator should be on his way here. It's eleven thirty."

Falco and Fox froze as if someone had taken a Freezie and put it in the room. Either way, the effect was still pretty funny to watch. Both looked as if they had come badly out of a fight: kicked, punched, slapped, bitten, sat on, clawed and nailed in an area not typically displayed to the public. The Star Fox troopers gasped at the same time.

"We're dead! We're worse than dead! There'll hardly be anything left for the vultures to pick at!" Fox cried as he began to pace back and forth.

"If it can get any worse, he'll make us immortal just so he can keep killing us over and over AND over AGAIN!" Falco panicked with a hysterical edge to his voice. "We've got to clean this up pronto!"

"Do you see him?" Fox demanded, grabbing Pit by the shirt collar and shaking him. "Answer me, damn it!"

"Let me look." Pit detached Fox from his front (with some difficulty) and peered out into the hallway. It was empty. Straining his ears, Pit listened intently for any sign of approaching footsteps. Sure enough he could hear a click and a soft thud every other second that sounded distinctly familiar.

"I'd say you have about thirty seconds," Pit called over his shoulder. "As much I'd love to see Meta Knight take a Fan and start whopping you two 'round the head with it, I might get chucked into the bandwagon and be forced to join the party. Not fun, not fun! So, chow!" Pit ran like a Chain Chomp was on his heels and vanished with his glass filled trash bag slung over one shoulder.

Fox and Falco stood in the middle of the bubbled kitchen uncertainly.

"WHAT DO WE DO?!" Fox caterwauled as he threw himself into Falco's arms, trembling. "He might de-pelt me like a fur trapper and baste you like a turkey! You and I will be the main course for lunch!"

"First off: Get off me," Falco snapped, dropping Fox at his feet. "Secondly: Follow my lead. Help me put _Meta Knight _back into the pantry, and then grab a mop."

"There isn't enough time though," argued Fox.

Falco smirked. "You're such an amateur," he chided, wading through the bubbles (at a hasty pace, we'd like to add). The bird grabbed on to one end of the coffin and Fox reluctantly cottoned on. Together they hoisted it out of the water and foam, dragging it back into the pantry and locking it inside. Then, rather quickly, Falco reached into his pockets and took out something that looked incredibly familiar.

"Are those Bunny—"

"Yep."

Fox accepted the head gear rather reluctantly and flicked at a cottony ear. "I never understood how Link could wear these ridiculous-looking things."

"We'll ask him later if we live long enough!" Falco said. He tugged his Bunny Hood on firmly over his head and raised his mop like a sword. "Mop, you fool, mop!"

The two began to mop and dry the floors, walls, table and ceiling at light speed, scrubbing and drying in mad attempt to hide evidence of an hour's worth of slacking off and causing mayhem.

* * *

**On The Other Side Of The Kitchen Door**

Meta Knight sneezed. "Odd," he told himself as he paced toward the kitchen, "I don't have allergies or a cold but I keep sneezing. Maybe one of those idiots is spreading around some kind of illness. Perhaps I'll be better off away from them in the kitchen for a while."

He stopped in front of the kitchen door. Meta Knight grabbed the door handle. It didn't budge. Surprised, he tried pressing the button on the right that normally would have caused the door to slide open automatically like a garage door. It too didn't work. (Why the door can be opened manually or on its own, we may never know.)

"Huh. It's locked. But you can only lock it from the inside..." Meta Knight glared at the door and sighed. He rapped on its side and called in, "Fox, Falco, may I come in? I need to make lunch!"

When no one answered Meta Knight raised his voice. "Fox! Falco! Open this door now, please!"

"Sorry!" two voices on the other side chimed in. "It's currently not available for use of the public. Come back in two hours!"

_How many times am I going to be forced to remind them that this is __my__ ship?_ Meta Knight thought, uncrossing his arms for something to do. In a voice cracked from frustration he yelled, "You have five seconds before I break it down!"

"Your _own_ ship, sir?" There was a sneer in Fox's reply.

_He's right. _"I'll make you two fix it," Meta Knight promised.

There was a moment of silence on the other side. Falco spoke rather reluctantly this time. "Please understand, Meta Knight, that we're doing this for _your _and _our_ own good. Especially our own good."

He thought he heard the scrape of chairs and the clatter of plates on the other side.

Meta Knight decided to play along. "Are you doing something _wrong_?" he asked gently. There was a moment of silence before Falco called back weakly.

"Maybe."

"Is he a psychic?"

"Quiet, you idiot!"

_Smack._

"Put that apple back in your mouth like a good sacrifice—"

"Shhh! Don't say that, Falco! He can hear us."

Meta Knight's interest ignited like oil on fire. "Are you afraid I'll hurt you?" he prompted.

This time Meta Knight was certain that he head something crash and break, as if the holder had dropped whatever it was out of shock.

"Are you two okay?" he asked anxiously, pressing himself closer to the door.

"I'll live," Fox answered, swearing vehemently under his breath.

"I promise"—Meta Knights suddenly remembered that there was a spare key under the welcome mat—"that I won't hurt"—his hand slipped below the welcome mat and he grabbed the key's handle—"a hair on your pelt or a feather on your wing."

"We can't take that risk," answered Falco breezily.

Meta Knight jammed the key into the lock on the knob. "Fortunately for me, I found the spare key for the kitchen! Too bad for you two!"

Falco and Fox let out cries of terror as Meta Knight twisted the door knob and flung it open.

The bluish, pale white tiles glistened like ice, each one perfectly mirroring his reflection. The counter tops shone like polished rock. Each cabinet looked like it had been dusted and re-coated in mahogany orange paint, giving it an auburn luster. The small table and four chairs were neatly pushed into a corner and looked cleaned; the fridge, all of the electronic devices (oven, stove, microwave, blender, toaster, et cetera) looked as if they had been taken through a car wash; even the ceiling shone a bit brighter.

And standing in the middle of this dazzling beauty that at-home housewives would have beamed at was Fox and Falco, dirt-speckled, covered in stains and panting heavily. Fox was on his back beside a steel garden bucket filled with water, and Falco was using a mop as a crutch.

Meta Knight was flabbergasted. "You...I...the kitchen..." He stopped to compose himself. "It looks fantastic! I even see that the dishes were finished!"

Stacked neatly by the sink were plates, cups, bowls and cooking utensils in innocent piles.

"Yep," Falco sighed. He closed his eyes. He was still wearing his Bunny Hood like Fox. "Just like you asked."

"You went above and beyond what I asked," Meta Knight corrected them. For once his yellow eyes weren't completely narrowed in frustration or exasperation, but rather softened to a more oval, prouder stare that made Meta Knight look far less—oh, what's the word?—ah, yes: creepy. "Great job."

Fox crawled onto his knees and pretended to bow like a peasant to an Emperor. "We live to serve," he replied in an undertone.

Falco rolled his eyes before glancing back at Meta Knight.

The Star Warrior blinked in surprise and pointed at Falco's head. "Why do you both have on Bunny Hoods? Those should be used for combat practice only."

Fox and Falco exchanged horrified looks before swiping them of their heads with sheepish grins.

"No reason in particular," Falco chuckled nervously. "We just thought that they looked cool. Yeah, that's it!"

Meta Knight didn't register this suspicious sign. "Well, whatever floats your boat, I suppose," he mused, heading toward the counter top near the sink where the dishes were stacked. He didn't notice either the cork Falco and Fox had wedged into the tap earlier, which had caused a back up in the plumbing. Slowly the pipe had been expanding for the past half hour like a balloon.

Fox let out a gasp of horror when he noticed. He elbowed Falco and pointed with his muzzle. When Falco saw what Fox was referring to he darted toward the sink. As inconspicuously as possibly they edged toward the sink and stood in front of it like bodyguards, whistling.

Meta Knight shot them a curious look. "What are you two so happy about?"

"_Nothing!_" they answered at once, sweating.

Meta Knight shook his head slightly. "Under normal circumstances I'd assume that you two were up to something"—he glanced away and padded toward the cabinets, picking his words carefully—"but I'm just too happy to let anything seem like it's the end of the world."

"Me too!" Fox agreed at once, nodding his head vigorously.

Meta Knight stopped again and relaxed considerably. His eyes flashed blue briefly as he faced them again, this time sounding thoughtful. "What brand of cleaner did you two use? It smells a lot like my favorite champagne."

"Favorite champagne?" Fox and Falco both asked nervously.

Meta Knight nodded. "Yes, my Gewürztraminer."

"In English please?" Fox ventured, aware of the pipe behind him swelling like a bee sting. He could feel the pipe expanding from the nozzle behind his back. Falco fidgeted too.

Meta Knight seemed genuinely surprised and pleased that Fox and Falco had taken an "interest" in wine collecting. "Oh? Well, it's a very romantic variety that pertains a fruity nectar. Though specialist in the field argue that it lacks the refreshing taste of dry wines, it has a wonderful aroma and_ spark_ to it when left to sit for years upon years. That's why I've been saving it for a special occasion—" He broke off, as if surprised he had divulged so much of his personal life to them. Continuing very briskly, he went on, "Besides that, I've been saving it for three thousand years, so it will have collected a very rich texture."

"Three...?" Fox whispered.

"Thousand...?" gaped Fox.

"...YEARS?" both of them sputtered, wide-eyed.

The Star Warrior nodded. "Three thousand years," he confirmed. "Before I start lunch why don't I crack it open?" Behind his mask he smiled. "To celebrate the fine, hard work you two have shown."

_Shit. Shit. Shit._ Those three words kept repeating themselves in Fox's head. He stretched up slightly and hissed in his best friend's ear, "If he doesn't kill us for the sink, then we're dead meat for his wine! _Three thousand years, Falco!_ It's gotta hold some kind of world record!"

"I know," Falco breathed back, his eyes following Meta Knight as he headed toward the pantry.

Fox froze as he watched Meta Knight open the pantry. The coffin they had rather sloppily tossed inside toppled out of the closet and crushed Meta Knight. Coughing and rasping, Meta Knight struggled to shrug it off him as it pinned him to the ground.

He glared peevishly at Falco and Fox. "Why is there a _coffin_ in my pantry?"

Falco sweat-dropped; then, turning to Fox, he added softly, "Follow my lead. Stay right there and don't let him see the faucet."

Falco inched out from in front of the sink and darted over the help lift the coffin off of Meta Knight. "I'm not quite sure why there's a box in here," he chattered airily, lifting Meta Knight into a standing position by his cape, "but I just remembered that I saw your wine in, er, the laundry room!"

"But it's always been in the kitchen...?"

"Nope! I saw it down there! Anyway, we don't want to celebrate!" Falco babbled nonstop as he began to push Meta Knight toward the door. "Look, why don't you go and make sure Kirby hasn't drank it while he's working? He's too young to drink, anyway! You don't want that on your conscience, do you?"

"But—wait—what were you doing down there?" Meta Knight stammered as he was shoved into the hallway.

"That's not important!" Falco insisted. "Now, get going!"

"But I—"

Falco then slammed the door in Meta Knight's face and spun around, pressing his back against the door. "Phew!" he sighed, wiping his forehead in relief. "That was a close one!"

"We may have another problem," Fox whimpered, tugging on Falco's sleeve. The fox had wandered away from the sink to stand at Falco's side. Now, he pointed at the sink.

Falco glanced at the sink in surprise and felt his body temperature plummet. The cork in the sink was working too well. While they had wasted away the past half hour it had steadily been growing like a knot in a shoelace; now, the pipe had expanded to a foot by foot size, trembling violently. Water spurted between little cracks in the cork and the faucet.

Falco sighed and stared at Fox. "I hate you."

WHOOOOOOOOOOSH.

Like a bomb-omb the sink "blew apart" spectacularly, sending water everywhere and re-soaking all of Fox and Falco's hard work like a garden hose.

On the other side of the door, Meta Knight heard a loud ringing noise, followed by what sounded like a water ride at Dorney Park. At his feet water pooled out beneath the crack and dampened the metal flooring. He scowled underneath his mask and shook each foot in turn, scattering droplets everywhere.

Suspicious, he opened the door to see his kitchen drenched thoroughly. Thankfully it hadn't flooded like before, and the sink had merely popped the cork out and continued to spout water like a whale breeching. Falco and Fox were both sitting on the floor facing the sink, damp and shaking like leaves. The moment they heard Meta Knight carefully shut the door, they turned in a similar motion and looked over their shoulders.

Scared stiff and being wet didn't help their overactive imaginations.

"WE'RE SORRY!" they both yelled, and at the same time threw themselves to the ground at Meta Knight's feet like groveling servants.

Both Star Fox members began to beg and yap at the same time.

"—we didn't mean to—"

"—had no idea the sink would blow up—"

"—it was an accident—"

"—this was all Fox's fault for using the cork—"

"—we'll go get our stuff and pack—"

"—better yet, we can go put ourselves in the coffin—"

"—and we apologize for the time we stole your rule book—"

Both fell silent, panting and sniffling, looked up a him with large, watery eyes and true regret shining in their faces. Meta Knight was completely taken aback; he actually hadn't understood a word they had said and was thus very confused for why they were blaming themselves.

Fox and Falco embraced each other in a hug and stared up at Meta Knight. (There wasn't much to stare up at; they were pretty much on equal levels when the were kneeling on the ground before him.)

"PLEASE DON'T KILL US!" screamed Fox and Falco at the same time, bursting into tears again.

Meta Knight felt a pang of pity and confusion for the two. "You didn't do anything wrong, though," he murmured, still just as confused. "I'm not going to kill you—and why you two would even assume I would kill you appalls me—and it' a sink, for the Halberd's sake! It's not the end of the world. Watch."

Fox and Falco fell silent and watched as Meta Knight strolled toward the sink. He gave it a withering look before taking out Galaxia and thwacking it with the flat side of the blade. Instantly the pipe stopped leaking.

"There," he grumbled, sheathing his sword. "That's why Galaxia is all-purposeful. Does just about everything, except the cleaning..."

"But aren't...aren't you angry?" Falco asked nervously, reluctantly standing up.

"Angry? No," Meta Knight answered calmly, not taking his eyes off of the sink as he spoke. "I wouldn't dream of killing you, hence the whole reason we fought against Tabuu together was to keep each other alive."

"B-but we killed you—in a sense," Falco added quietly, standing up also. "So why wouldn't you do the same back?"

"I have not the slightest idea what you're—WHAT did you say?" Meta Knight growled, whipping around the glare at them.

"Falco, you idiot, RUN!" Fox yipped, and together the fox and bird sped out of the kitchen.

Meta Knight sighed, puzzled, and muttered under his breath, "Lunatics," before setting to work at cleaning the kitchen and getting ready to prepare lunch...


	6. Chores: PT 4

Hello, guys! _Bet you weren't expecting an update_; it must have seemed like we had deserted this fanfic! _Well, guess what: we're back!_ Summer's here, meaning more time to write. _We hope this chapter was well worth the wait_. Don't worry; _"Chores" will make a curtain call soon, and then we can make way for the other twenty-some misadventures in store._

* * *

**Plants And Prisoners: Halberd Sublevel **

Down the dark staircases that spiraled from first floor to platform to basement, two lone figures chose to walk down those forbidding steps. Well, one was doing all of the walking; the other was being dragged.

"NO!" Lucas was screaming, writhing and twisting to yank his wrist free of Ness's grip. "I am NOT going down there!"

"Yes, you _are_. Come on," Ness persisted, taking another few steps. "I want to confirm if there really is a little Jimmy down here or not!"

"What makes you think that_ I_ want to find out?" Lucas shot back sourly, trying to wriggle his hand free.

"You need to live a little," Ness insisted. "Don't you want to see if it's true? That way you can stop worrying; it's for your own good, Lucas. And plus, if I end up dying a horrible death down here then I need a witness to file law suites against Meta Knight."

"B-B-But," Lucas whimpered, stumbling on their seventy-ninth step, "what if it's true?"

"Don't be so scared; Meta Knight was probably just kidding." Despite his confidence Ness looked uneasy.

Lucas sighed. "I _like_ being scared; it means that out of everyone else here I'll be the last one to scream "Charge!" run off, and get myself killed."

"We're _Brawl_, Lucas. It's what we do."

"Then why am I here?"

"They had to stick you _somewhere_; besides, you're pretty powerful when you're not trying to hide behind a tree or a rock."

Lucas blushed a deep crimson color and threw his hand behind his head awkwardly. "I do what I can," he admitted modestly.

"Besides, this will be cake compared to bashing Porky and Master Hand!" Ness added encouragingly. "I'm sure that if there is a little Jimmy down here then we'll all be the best of chums! If he's still alive, of course. Otherwise, we have nothing to fear from a skeleton."

"Hey, wait, I—" Lucas began to protest in a panicky cry, only to fall silent when Ness sprang off the bottom step, pulling Lucas along with him.

"Wow." Ness's eyes grew round like an IHOP pancake. He breathed softly, "Look at his."

They had entered a huge, flat room that had a musty, cold draft rippling through the still air. Here and there crates rose in huge walls that made it difficult to observe certain parts of the basement from their angle. Off to one side, Ness and Lucas could see many of their fellow _Brawl_ characters' ships clustered neatly together. Unlike the rest of the room, they had been recently moved and were not covered by a century's worth of dust.

Kirby's Warpstar and Dragon were some of the smallest of the vehicles; the Falcon Flyer, Arwing, the Great Fox, the S.S. Dolphin—basically everybody's way of getting around was stored down here, including Diddy's jet pack.

Ness stifled a cry of delight. Lucas imitated it with the same excited, childish glee, like finding all of the best presents on Christmas morning.

"So this is where they're all kept," Lucas whispered. "Where do you suppose Meta Knight—hey, Ness? What are you doing?"

While Lucas had been talking and admiring the view, Ness had crept along the row of crates and scouted next to a bunch of what looked like cells in the wall.

"Come over here!" Ness yelled.

"Shh!" Panic flared briefly in Lucas's eyes as he edged along the wall. "Not so loud!"

"What are you afraid of? Spiders?" teased Ness from across the wide berth of the room.

"N-No," Lucas stammered, as he passed by the disused vehicles. "I-I just think this place is d-dirty and unsafe and—SPIDERS!" Lucas stopped walking and took a wild leap back, crashing into the wall. He had the misfortune of walking directly into a spider's web.

"G-Get it off!" Lucas begged, jumping up and down on the spot. He looked like he was doing some sort of crazy Irish jig. "I h-hate spiders!"

"Keep still!" Ness bounded over and gently cuffed the webbing off his friend's shoulders and backside. "It's okay," he soothed. "Look." In his palm he held up a tiny funnel spider. "It's only a baby."

Lucas looked skeptical. "I suppose; even if that baby bites," he muttered warily, eyeing the arachnid in his friend's palm. "Thanks."

"What are friends for?" Ness beamed, and Lucas returned the confident look.

"So what was it that you found?" Lucas asked, continuing in the direction of the bars hitched in front of what looked like a cell.

"This." Ness pointed at several bared rooms lined up side-by-side.

Lucas stopped three meters away and refused to come closer. "What are these things?" he asked sharply. "Prison cells?"

"Seems so." Ness walked up to the bars and pressed his face against them. "Nope. This one's empty. But I do see a stockade!"

At the back of the cell Lucas could just barely glimpse the wooden torture device. Three holes were drilled in to the center of a wooden plank suspended between two beams. _Two for my arms and one for my head. Great_, Lucas thought dismally. He was starting to get an uneasy cramp in his gut the longer he stared at it.

"How angry would you have to make Meta Knight to get thrown in there?" Lucas asked, swallowing the hard knot in his throat.

Ness shrugged. "I'm more concerned about that," he said excitedly, pointing to the cell beside it.

_That?_ Lucas almost didn't want to know what Ness was talking about, but curiosity won over his better judgement. Reluctantly the blonde hastened to Ness's side and peered into the second cell. In the very center was a chair with straps on the arms and legs; probably to keep someone trapped. There was a huge wheel like one to a ship, with wires and cords that ran along the back of the chair and legs—and fastened to the top of the chair were three light bulbs.

"Is that an _electric chair_?" gasped Ness, taking a step back. His nerves seemed to be deserting him. Personally, Lucas's nerves had already left him a long time ago. The only thing that kept him at Ness's side was boundless loyalty and common sense—you _never_ split up in a creepy, dark place with ominous-looking devices. Remember the old horror movies? They pick you off _one by one_.

"Maybe Tabuu left them here?" Ness suggested hopefully. "You know, after he took over the Halberd and trashed it?"

Lucas shivered, every hair along his arms standing on end like porcupine quills. "If that's true, then why didn't Meta Knight throw them out by now? It's only been two weeks since Tabuu was destroyed."

Ness didn't answer, however. While Lucas had been talking Ness had walked left to stand before the final cell. When he spoke, his voice came out as a squeak.

"Lucas?"

Lucas was still studying the electric chair and gave a half-hearted, "Yeah?" as an acceptable answer.

"I..." Ness's voice shook as he spoke. "I f-found...I think I found..."

Lucas abandoned his observation and skipped in front of the third cell, still not taking his eyes off of Ness. "What's got you so riled up?" he asked his best friend. Hardly anything riled Ness up. This had to be a first. "What did you find?" he repeated anxiously.

Ness raised a trembling hand and pointed with his index finger to the inside of the cell. "I found little Jimmy."

Ice ran through Lucas, freezing his insides over. He almost didn't want to turn around and face the music; but, gritting his teeth, Lucas forced himself to stop trembling and turn around.

Inside the cell, shackled to the back of the stone wall, was a skeleton no bigger than themselves.

Lucas opened his mouth to scream and found that he could only gasp. Ness cupped his hand to his mouth as if he were going to be sick, but couldn't summon the contents of his stomach up. Thank goodness, too. The basement was already filthy enough.

Lucas stumbled and fell back onto his rump, catching himself with his hands so that his landing was a soft one.

Ness shuddered violently. "Look—look at his hat," he choked out.

Lucas raised his eyes and saw that the skeleton adorned a red-and-white baseball cap. The initials "L.J." were scribbled over the bill in neat, cursive handwriting.

"Little Jimmy," both of them breathed out.

"I'm ready to leave now!" Lucas gulped, scrambling to his feet and backing up on his toes. "Can we go, Ness?"

"Y-yeah, sure, I-I proved my theory—right," Ness moaned shakily as he took Lucas's lead and began to edge backwards, his front still facing the third cell. He stumbled back in his haste to retreat, his eyes glittering with fear. Who could blame him? If Tabuu hadn't done this, then Meta Knight must have—

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Ness had stalked back so far that his heel had made contact with Diddy's peanut-fueled jet pack. It gave a start like a firecracker and whizzed across the ground like a shaken up soda can, shooting peanuts everywhere. The ear-shattering din made dust fall from the ceiling, caking the vehicles and the crates. Diddy's jet pack skidded over the ground, sparks and short bursts of flame spewing from the engine. Finally it sailed into a huge wall of crates that roped off a section of the basement and caused the crates to topple over. Items and tools spilled out of the crates that splintered open from the impact, and a huge plume of dust shot up into the air. It was like a nuclear explosion, where you couldn't see your own hand even if you held it up to your face. Ness and Lucas spluttered and coughed as they tried to maneuver through the wreck.

"Lucas!" Ness called out, cupping his mouth with a hand. "Lucas, are you okay?"

"Yes, but I can't see!" Lucas shouted back. "_Good job_, by the way!"

"Sorry! Diddy's stupid jet pack was in the way!" There was another small explosion on Ness's right. "Shoot! I think we knocked over a Blast Box!"

"Hang on; wait; I found a Fan!" Lucas cheered.

Ness watched as the dust cloud began to clear, and gradually he could make out the outline of Lucas, the vehicles, and the untouched crates. The Fan made a whipping noise every time Lucas slashed and batted at the air with it. Lucas began to move toward his friend with a look of relief on his face.

"Thank goodness, I—" Lucas began to say, only to fall silent when he stopped in front of Ness. A large variety of brawling items scattered the ground from individual crates, but that wasn't what had caught his attention.

Ness raised a brow, curious as to what had prompted such a strong reaction from his friend. Slowly he turned around.

The crates hadn't been arranged accidentally to keep the far corner of the basement hidden; it had been done on purpose. And for a good reason.

Banana peels littered the ground in piles at the green, triangular feet of Petey Piranha. The oversized flytrap was shackled to the wall by its feet with a good five meters of chain used to move around. It fixed them with its sightless stare and lowered its multi-petaled head. Its jaws fell open and it lolled its tongue, saliva dripping from its huge incisors.

Ness screamed. Lucas screamed. Petey Piranha let out a scream of psychotic rage and charged at them, flailing its stubby leaf-like arms.

The two boys careened backwards and sprinted along their own path, tripping over the brawling items scattered across the floor. Petey Piranha half waddled, half lumbered after them, snapping its jaws like a junkyard dog. The chain behind it jangled as it was slithered across the ground.

"RUN!" Ness screamed.

"What does it _look_ like I'm doi—" Lucas began to protest, his voice cut off as he tripped and fell flat on his face.

Ness screeched to a halt and spun around. "Lucas!"

Too late. Petey Piranha barreled at full speed at Lucas, his jaws snapping wildly. Lucas squeezed his eyes shut and prepared to have his ankles ripped off.

The attack never came. Lucas heard Ness gasp and swear loudly. Lucas squinted open an eye, then felt himself blink in astonishment. Petey was just barely out of reach; the chain ended with four feet between them. The flytrap snarled and snapped at them again.

Lucas had a very un-Lucas moment. "Who the HELL put this thing down here?"

"We did."

Both of them jumped in surprise, their hearts hammering like woodpecker beaks. Standing over the wreck, carrying a shovel and twenty bananas between them, were the Kongs.

"Diddy?" Lucas dared to ask.

Ness's eye twitched. "DK? What are you two doing down here?"

DK held up his shovel like a spear. "We're down here to reload the furnace and stock up on fuel."

"And to lift crates," Diddy added, glaring at Lucas and Ness. He gestured toward the scattered wreck. "Though it seems that we no longer need to."

Both Ness and Lucas stared blankly at DK and Diddy, gaping stupidly at them. It was several moments later when Diddy gave a pronounced cough.

As if reading their minds, he stated casually, "You remember dear old Petey, of course? Well, I'm glad you could get reacquainted, because he's now our pet."

"PET? IT TRIED TO EAT US!" Lucas screamed, going red in the face.

"'It'?" DK sounded offended. "Petey Piranha doesn't like being called 'it'. _He_ is an esteemed, courteous and well-behaved gentleman."

To back up DK's point, Diddy strolled up to Petey and stroked him under the chin. The large flytrap responded by panting like a dog, and then purring. The strength of the purr made the floor vibrate like a massage chair.

"See?" DK grinned. "He's friendly!" The ape then punched Petey Piranha in the jaw in a playful gesture. The flytrap didn't see it like that, though.

Petey gave a vicious growl and lunged at DK, just barely missing his arm. Diddy sprang back a safe distance and raised the shovel.

"Easy, boy," Diddy warned, lowering the shovel. "I don't want to have to stick you like a harpooned whale."

Petey made a sad noise and flopped onto the floor.

DK sighed. "Well, he'll need a bit of training up, and then he'll be the perfect family pet, great around the kids and everything!" he chimed in enthusiastically.

"You're not going to have any more time to _train_ him!" Ness snapped, pointing accusingly at the two. "I'm going to go get Meta Knight right now, and then we're getting rid of Petey! Honestly, did you two forget that he's a monster sent by Tabuu to kill us?"

Diddy and DK stepped protectively in front of Petey.

"He's a great flytrap, honestly," Diddy insisted. "Look!" He quickly scooped up a banana and chucked it at Petey. With a bark of delight, Petey snapped his jaws and let the banana sail into his mouth. There was a sickening gulp, and then Petey let out a belch.

Lucas scrambled to his feet, hyperventilating slightly. "Later. I'm off to go find Meta Knight. C'mon, Ness." Beckoning, he and the black-haired boy turned to leave.

Both of them felt a pair of pincer like hands grab them by the shoulder and hold them in place. Lucas tried even harder to walk and quickly tired himself out. While DK hoisted them up in the air by their shirts, Diddy stood in front of them.

"Look," the monkey reasoned, "we're friends, and I'd hate to have to—what's the phrase?—rough ya guys up a bit, if word slipped out about Petey. I'm not begging you two, but do it as a favor, won't you?"

"Or else," DK added grimly, shaking his head.

Diddy smiled slightly. "Petey isn't costly to look after, ya know. He likes bananas—like us! Though," he added mischievously, "he probably misses the crunch of bones, and we've been meaning to buy him something to chew on."

Seeing the petrified looks on their faces, Diddy added hastily, "I was only kidding! Geez, what did your mom feed you two? Gullible soup?"

Ness scowled and crossed his arms. "You sounded pretty convincing, like something out of a hit-man movie."

Lucas added quietly, "Could you please put us down now?"

DK blinked. "Oops. Sorry, little buddies." He gently set them down and took a step back, dusting off his hands.

Diddy grinned sheepishly. "Look, could you two please keep it a secret? If we get caught, Meta Knight will have to kick _us_ out, not you guys. And honestly, we're taking care of him and everything!"

DK gave the basement an appreciate look. "It's perfect down here for him. He's got space, and no one ever comes down here thanks to little Jimmy. If he feels like it some of the item crates can provide entertainment. And the furnace keeps him warm."

Ness looked convinced, though Lucas still had a skeptical look.

The blonde raised a brow. "Before I say anything, how exactly did you get Petey Piranha _down here_? I'm surprised Meta Knight didn't notice you two lugging him on board."

DK positively radiated with pride. "It was my idea," the ape admitted. "A few hours before everyone arrived we leashed Petey up and dragged him on board."

"You can't imagine the back pain we got from trying to fit him through the door, let alone to come!" moaned Diddy, rubbing his spine in memory of the incident. "Just thinking about it makes me sore. DK and I stole all of Meta Knight's Tylenol and painkillers. You'd think he was a drug addict, the way his medicine cabinet is loaded with the stuff."

"Speaking of dear old dictator," Ness interrupted, "how did you smuggle Petey past him without getting caught?"

DK scratched his chin. "To be quite honest, I'm still wondering about that, too. You see, we were leading Petey down one of the hallways and passing the bathroom near the bedrooms when we heard running water. We froze, and during the brief silence better heard who it actually was."

"Who?" the two boys pressed eagerly.

"Meta Knight," Diddy exclaimed.

"Wait!" Lucas raised a hand. "How did you know it was _him_?"

While Diddy clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his snickering, DK chortled, "Cause he was the one _singing in the shower_. It was the funniest thing I ever heard!"

"Which song?" Ness grinned.

"'What Hurts The Most', by Rascal Flatts. Though he altered the lyrics slightly."

"What do you mean?" Lucas asked eagerly.

Clearing his throat, Diddy began: "You've both heard the song before, right?" They nodded again. "Good. Look, I'm no Michael Jackson, but if you want I'll sing it for you."

Before either of them could protest Diddy burst into full chorus:

"_I can take the fangirls pounding on the roof of my house;__that don't bother me.  
The Halberd can take a few hits now and then and barely make it out!_

_I'm not afraid to sue every once in a while even though  
goin' on with freedom gone still upsets me!  
There are seconds every now and again I pretend I'm okay,  
but that's not what kills me._

_What hurts the most,  
was to be the host  
and havin' so much to say!  
And watchin' freedom walk away!"_

Diddy abruptly stopped. "The rest involves a lot of swearing," he added awkwardly. "So I think I'll end it there."

Several seconds of echoing silence followed before the four of them collapsed onto the ground, laughing. Even Petey Piranha managed a sort of hiccupy laugh.

Minutes later they subsided into silence, laying on the floor. Lucas decided to end the conversation by breaking the bad news; maybe Diddy would be in such a good mood that he wouldn't get angry.

"By the way, I broke your jet pack."

"..."

"..."

"You BROKE IT?!"

* * *

**Lunch!**

The doors to the conference room flew open and Link barged in, Toon Link following his older self while panting heavily.

"Please—stop—smelling—stuff—a mile—away," he begged, falling to his knees and drooling.

Link struck a triumphant pose. "I sensed the presence of: Lunch!" And he waved with his hands toward the buffet on the table.

In spite of himself, Toon Link was impressed. "The ranting can wait until after lunch," he decided, standing up and rubbing his hands together eagerly.

Ash, Ike and Samus poked their heads into the room, drawn like moths to a lamp by the commotion. Upon seeing the food they entered the room eagerly.

"Is it time to eat?" Ike asked, poking a silver lid that covered a huge plate.

Samus shrugged. "I guess so."

Link grinned from ear-to-ear; turning his back to them, he stuck his face out into the hallway and yelled, "FOO–OOD!"

His summons made the other _Brawl_ characters flock to him, abandoning their chores. Within minutes the conference room was crowded with most of them milling around and talking about random crap.

Amidst a sea of legs, Popo chewed his nails through his mittens. "Nana?" he called. When no response came he grew panicky. Poking Marth in the ribs, the Ice Climber demanded, "Have you seen my sister? Do you know where she is?"

Marth blinked and yawned insolently. "Dunno. Sorry, squirt," he drawled, and walked off.

Despair weighed down Popo's heart. With a dramatic, drawn-out cry, he fell to his knees and put his fists to his face. "Nana! Where _are_ you?"

While those surrounding him spared him a "What the—?" look, no one noticed Meta Knight enter the room through the kitchen door.

"Greetings."

People jumped up at his rather sudden appearance. Heads turned to look at him curiously. It only took two seconds for a very paranoid and easily frightened Luigi to notice what Meta Knight was holding in his hand. Luigi's voice rose in a shrill scream:

"He's got a butcher's knife!"

Gasps ensued, and Popo squirmed through the crowd to stand before Meta Knight. The Ice Climber placed both hands on his hips and glared. "It's red with blood. You beheaded her, didn't you? _That's_ what you have under the dish on the table! Isn't it?"

Meta Knight had to mentally restrain himself from strangling Popo. "No. Of course not." He gave him a puzzled look. "Who's _her_?"

"Nana!"

Meta Knight shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry to say that I haven't seen her, and I certainly haven't_ slaughtered _your sister. Besides, if I did have to behead somebody it would most likely be Kirby. He eats through my paychecks and depletes the fridge like it's an all-you-can-eat buffet."

Somebody had the sense to ask, "How are you supposed to be_head_ Kirby? He's only a circular body with stubs for arms and legs."

But was ignored.

Popo still looked unsettled. "Then where is she?" he asked himself, scanning the crowd. It was possible that Popo could have missed her; they were on the short side, after all.

With a sudden swing the door to the conference room burst open, and in marched Peach with a towel-wrapped bundle under one arm. Kirby flounced after her, excited and oblivious to the tension in the air.

Peach moved through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea, reaching the table. The Mushroom Princess placed her wet bundle on a chair.

It was Nana, drenched thoroughly and shivering.

"NANA!" Popo gave a delighted cry and prepared to tackle her in a hug. He was stopped as Peach threw out a hand and caught him in the gut.

"Sit! Sit!" trilled Peach, glowering at him. "You can tackle her later. Can't you see that she's my patient?"

Nana sneezed. "I don't feel...," the Ice Climber sniffled, "...well."

Popo blinked. "What happened to her?"

Peach snorted and placed both hands on her hips. With a manicured finger nail she jabbed Popo in the chest and growled, "What happened? What happened?" She gave a derisive laugh that made Pit and Snake inch away nervously. "_You_ happened!"

"Me?" squeaked Popo.

"You knocked her into the chute, and then I ended up putting her through the rinse cycle!"

"Poyo," Kirby added idly, massaging his brow.

Popo frowned. "Well, technically, didn't you put her in there?"

Peach lowered her finger. "Touché," the Toad Princess grumbled.

"Can we eat?" Mario interrupted. "I'm hungry."

Peach's scolding was drowned out by a clamor of agreement from the others.

The Star Warrior relented. "Go ahead."

Jigglypuff lifted up a plate lid and found, to hers and everyone's surprise, sandwiches.

Marth raised a brow. "What the...?" He, too, then picked up another plate lid.

Sandwiches.

Captain Falcon prepared to lift up a third lid. "I'm going to take a guess here... Hah!" He threw off the lid to see more sandwiches.

Ash looked at Meta Knight incredulously as he unmasked another dish. "You made finger sandwiches, too?" the trainer asked, motioning toward the minuscule appetizer.

"Yes," said Meta Knight unemotionally. "Why? Do you have something against bread?"

"It's sort of redundant after a while," Lucario replied for Ash, grabbing the handle on a plate. "You don't even have to know Future Sight to guess what's under here—sandwi—huh?" He threw off the silver lid. "Hoagies?"

"In other words," Diddy grumbled, "a type of sandwich."

"But a sandwich nonetheless," Meta Knight beamed.

Luigi gave the drink pitchers nervous looks. "Please don't tell me that you cremated bread in a blender?"

Meta Knight drew his purple cape around him. "Of course not," he admonished, a steely edge to his voice. "Do you think I'm that insane?"

Through a mouthful bread and bologna, Link and Toon Link stated simply, "Yes."

Several other _Brawl_ characters gave nods, or became tight-lipped and didn't utter a sound.

Affronted, the Star Warrior sat down with an audible curse. "You have Fox and Falco to thank for your lunch, actually. They destroyed a good portion of the kitchen, and I lost a few cooking necessities to them as well. There was only enough to prepare sandwiches."

Fox's ears were all that you could see in his seat. Falco grinned sheepishly.

A majority of the room glared in their direction before they began to cautiously prod their lunch. Snake even went as far as to start running chemical tests on it for poisoning.

Samus looked up. "Hey," she called to Marth, "where's Wolf? I wanted to make fun of him, and I can't do that if he's not here!"

Marth's eyes watered, and he let out a deep chuckle. Zelda answered: "It's better that you didn't know."

Pit nudged Lucas, lowering his sandwich back onto the plate. "Actually, it's better _to_ know..."

"Know what?" Lucas asked innocently.

The angel smirked. "Well, there's a funny story, actually..."

Similar conversations were also going around the table, spoken in wary whispers that gradually grew louder. It didn't take long for Zelda to cotton on to what their topic was.

"Excuse me," the Hyrullian princess said loudly, slamming her glass on the table, "but if you have a bone to pick with me then say it; don't sit there like idiots gossiping about it."

Ike swallowed his grilled cheese and met her scorching gaze meekly. "Well, actually, a large majority of us heard it from Marth..."

"Is it true?" Ness burst out. "That you rap—"

Mario, Popo and Fox were close enough to clop Ness over the head and cup his mouth before he could finish that word. The rest of the table flinched/paled or leaned in eagerly.

Zelda flushed; her eyes widened rather dramatically, and the fork she had been holding crumpled beneath her fingers as if it was nothing more than a bendy straw. "Where," she breathed through her nostrils, "did this rumor start?"

A majority of the room pointed at Marth. Olimar, Yoshi and R.O.B. pointed at Meta Knight. The rest of them continued to stare.

Zelda's skin color deepened several levels to a dark, deep russet color. If anyone had been close enough, they could have felt heat emanating off the princess like a boiler.

"Look," R.O.B. stated innocently, "she's tanning... or possibly burning"

His idle comment was bypassed. "Let me get this straight." Zelda drummed her nails on the edge of the table. "At least sixty percent of this wild story is Marth's fault; fifteen percent of you heard it from Meta Knight and that—that—that _damned_ video camera, while the rest of you gossiped about Wolf and—"

"Meta Knight, you videotaped that?" yelled Sonic. He whistled. "Impressive!"

"Actually," Marth proclaimed proud and loud, "_I_ did that! _He_ confiscated it."

Several "boos" ensued around the room. Meta Knight flinched. Zelda gave something close to a snarl. Marth sensed the end of the world (predicted by the late Incas) and began to stand up.

"Now," he laughed nervously, passing Pit and Mr. Game and Watch's chairs, "I can guess that you're angry—"

"Angry was five minutes ago," Zelda interrupted him, pushing herself up out of her chair. "Now I'm _pissed_."

"T-There's no need to get violent," Marth stuttered.

"Run, Marth. This time I'm hunting _you_." Zelda rolled up both sleeves and cracked her knuckles menacingly.

"Fight! Fight!" Ash yelled wildly, pounding his silverware on the table. Sonic joined in by drum-rolling with a pair of spoons.

"Fight! Fight!" parroted Toon Link, standing on top of his chair. It didn't make much of a difference in his height.

"Beep! Beep!" ("Fight! Fight!") Mr. Game and Watch cried.

The only ones who hadn't joined in the chant were Meta Knight, Lucario, and R.O.B. Said swordsman rose from his seat and began to walk around the table toward Marth and Zelda. "Look, I'm sure that with a little cooperation we can figure this out—"

"You're one to talk," snapped Zelda; the Hyrule heiress briefly closed her eyes in what looked like meditation, before whipping around in a tight circle. There was a brief, illuminating flash of light.

Three hundred and sixty degrees later Sheik stood before Marth, three long, dagger-like needles pressed against his throat. "Any last words?" she hissed.

Before Marth could finish spluttering, "You bitc—!" the door to the conference room flew open and dented the metal walls.

Everyone froze as if a sudden wind have iced them over into statues. They were left dumbstruck and stupefied; there were no words they could possibly utter to describe the horror they were witnessing.

Sheik dropped her needles with three consecutive clangs. "Pikachu? What...what happened to you?"

The Electric Mouse Pokémon stomped angrily on the floor with a foot, leaving a large puddle. Around his neck was the toilet seat. Bruises covered his arms, his legs, his ears—everything was spotted pale black and blotchy. Pikachu was drenched thoroughly.

"Why are you wearing the toilet seat like a scarf?" Meta Knight finally managed to ask.

Pikachu's electrical pouches crackled. "Pika—pika—pika_CHU_!" The yellow rodent made several violent hand gestures and tugged desperately on the lid. It wouldn't come off.

"Nice—uh—fashion statement, Pikachu?" Nana laughed nervously.

Peach snorted. "It looks hideous! How could you say such a thing as, 'nice'?"

Pikachu seethed. "Pika, pikapika, ka-chu! Pika-pika-kachu!"

Charizard dropped the glass cup raised to his snout, Ivysaur looked highly affronted, and Squirtle retreated into his shell with Withdraw; Jigglypuff inflated slightly, and Lucario's "stern parental mode" started to kick in.

"Mind your language!" snapped the Aura Pokémon.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as the numerous _Brawl_ characters began muttering and pointing openly at Pikachu's "necklace." Suddenly, a booming laugh began to rend the air. Then two.

Mario and Luigi had to lean on each other for support as their eyes flooded with tears.

"Beep?" ("What's so funny?") Mr. Game and Watch asked.

"Well," laughed Mario, wiping his eyes, "the thing with Pikachu is our fault."

Luigi nodded earnestly. "I must say, revenge tastes much sweeter than these sandwiches. But then again, this being Meta Knight's cooking, anything would taste better."

"But it was all in good spirits, right, Pikachu?" Mario hiccuped, eying the Pokémon with a nervous stare.

Pikachu responded by letting several volts emanate from his electrical pouches. Lashing his tail, Pikachu broke into a short, awkward run, jumping on top of the table with a clatter. "Pikachu...!" he snarled, holding his stubby arms akimbo.

Snake excitedly poked his head out of the cardboard box. "Is there gonna be a fight?" he demanded, brightening.

Yoshi made a smart side comment: "I thought you would have been tired of violence after getting the stuffing knocked out of you by Sonic."

"Hey." Snake fixed the green dinosaur with a cool gaze. "I like to _watch_ fights, not be in them. Well, that is unless I'm winning."

Pikachu took another step forward toward Mario and Luigi, his tail glowing a luminescent white as he prepared to use Iron Tail.

Nervous, R.O.B. reached for his glass (filled with oil) and rapped the side with a spoon. It made three several loud, chiming noises, before he made a smack too hard and it cracked.

"Oops," the robot whispered, quickly setting it back down.

Meta Knight heaved a long, exhausted sigh. "I get the gist." Then, raising his voice, the Star Warrior ordered, "Sit and be seated!"

With grudging whispers and comments the brawlers returned to their chairs, looking disappointed by the lack of action. It took a great deal of coaxing on Squirtle's behalf to convince Pikachu to clamber off the table, and let Charizard try to wrench the toilet seat off.

"Now," Meta Knight growled, "your actions have spoken louder than your words, and my response to them is this."

Leaning over in his seat, the Star Warrior hauled onto the table with a solid _thud_ his rule book.

Groans and moans of misery filled the air like a lamentation at a funeral. Olimar's Pikmin let out squeaks and chirps of protest, pounding on the table with their tiny, multi-colored fists.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Meta Knight pulled off his person a black sharpie marker. "New rules." He open up to the newest page, unaware of the recent additions scribed by Fox and Falco the previous night before. "No flushing Pokémon down the toilet. No throwing people in the washing machine, no matter how badly they need to bathe. No arriving at mealtimes wet. Keep OUT OF MY ROOM," Meta Knight tagged on, throwing the Ice Climbers a look of annoyance. "And no morphing into your second counterpart during mealtimes; no justification allowed, loopholes, or exceptions."

Sheik tugged at a stray lock of hair. "Marth deserved it!"

"Tough, deal with it. And you and I still need to have that talk regarding earlier's 'incident,'" Meta Knight responded, cutting off Sheik's hysterics. After a second he then continued on: "We are a civilized people—er, "assortment"—not wild monkeys. There is no reason to behave—ow!"

A kaiser roll bounced off of his helmet and _roll_ed (bad pun intended) onto the floor. The Star Warrior looked up, blinking his yellow eyes in a stupefied trance. "Who threw that?"

Diddy Kong gave a pronounced cough and stood on his chair, leering across the table at the Star Warrior. "How dare you say that!" he squeaked indignantly, plucking another sandwich off a plate and into his dextrous hand.

"How dare I what?" asked Meta Knight, bemused.

Diddy hurled the sandwich; Meta Knight made no attempt to dodge it, and it instead bounced off his armor and onto the floor. DK looked on coldly, arms crossed across his bare chest.

The monkey imitated Meta Knight with uncanny accuracy, just as he had done earlier while singing to Lucas and Ness. "'We are not wild monkeys.' _Monkeys!_ Do you realize how racist you people are? We are the standing stones of human evolution: no monkeys, no humans. Primates rule, and we _are_ civilized, unlike some people here."

Taken aback, Meta Knight retorted over the newly-arisen outcries, "What if I said instead, 'Don't act like dumb blondes?' Diddy, there is no reason to get offended by an expression. Now sit down and stop throwing the lunch!"

Diddy stomped his left foot. "Make me."

However, Meta Knight's comment roused more fury than he expected.

"HEY!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not dumb."

Samus, Peach, Link, Toon Link, Lucas, and Sheik were bristling with fury.

Meta Knight gave a silent sigh. "I just can't say anything without offending_ somebody_ today, can I?"

Diddy cracked his knuckles, while DK stood up in a single, fluid motion, gripping a hoagie in one hand. "I say," the monkey proclaimed, "you're right, Meta Knight. Monkeys and apes_ are_ uncivilized slobs. Let's validate what you just said by acting like total barbarians."

"Come to think of it," Link piped up, "we _are_ dumb blondes. And you know what? I think I might just forget about the rule about throwing things such as food." The left-handed swordsman swiped a finger sandwich off a large, silver plate. "How about you, Lucas? Feeling pretty stupid today?"

Egged on, Lucas said excitedly, "Yeah! My IQ just dropped twenty points!"

Sheik gave a grim smile. "Works for me, considering I'm already set to kill." Her gaze flickered to Marth and back.

Suddenly, Link's green hat jerked, and his pint-sized fairy fluttered out from underneath in a rapid beat of transparent wings.

The fairy hovered around his head, drawing attention to the pair. "Link," Navi cautioned, "I really don't think this is a good idea."

"That's what you said last month when I tried to gamble Epona. And we didn't lose, did we? Now _get back in the hat_!" yelled Link, swiping at Navi with his free right hand, catching her, and shoving her back under his cap.

Lucario grimaced sympathetically. "That's just cruel, Link. Worse than Ash's treatment of his Pokémon, even."

Ash grinned awkwardly and slapped a hand on Squirtle's back, causing the turtle to topple out of his seat from the force. "I don't treat them poorly! They love me, right, guys?"

Ash's only three Pokémon— the three starters—plus Pikachu, Lucario, and Jigglypuff, threw Ash disdainful looks.

Meta Knight—sensing the heralding tension—raised both of his hands in a futile gesture. Calmly, in attempts to cease any would-be fights, muttered, "Now, now, let's not get hasty—"

"FOOD FIGHT!" screamed Captain Falcon, breaking the silence.

A second later pandemonium reigned.


	7. Chores: PT 5

We bet you weren't expecting this: an UPDATE! That's right; summer's here and we're back in business. Why don't you just go ahead and read?

Please, enjoy. (And review.)

* * *

**Tampering In The Lab**

Footsteps pattered down the hallway; a moment later, two silhouettes came into view. They were walking side-by-side, talking in a whispered conversation while occasionally plucking food off of their persons.

Ash's voice sounded rather suddenly, loud, clear, and abrupt: "I can't _believe_ we survived!" He faked an injured look, staggering limply after his companion—Ike. "I thought we were goners."

"Yeah," grunted Ike as he attempted to remove a slice of cheese that was glued to his cheek with mayo.

"Disregarding the fact I'll have to shower twenty times to get this stuff out of my hair"—Ash unstuck a tomato from his ear lobe—"that's going to go down in history as the best food fight ever!"

Ike nodded in agreement. "Did you see Marth's face when Yoshi dumped the entire batch of lemonade on him?"

"Or when Samus was about to get nailed by that king-sized sub, and Lucario took the hit for her?" Ash tacked on giddily, wringing a beverage of sort out of his hair. "I wonder why he did that, considering it was every man—or _wo_man, in this case—for herself."

Ike shrugged. "Dunno. But it's so cute that it's nauseating."

The Pokémon Trainer let out a deep chuckle from within his chest, pausing to slap his knees with unexpected enthusiasm. He said breezily, "I still can't get over Meta Knight's game. Trying to stop a fight by joining it—what next?"

"Or Jigglypuff's killer arm. You wouldn't expect her to be a natural pitcher, considering her arms are pink stubs." He shuddered. "...scary."

Ash rolled his shoulders in a luxurious stretch. The pair turned a corner, and he paused to wipe a smear of ketchup off of his cheek. "How much trouble do you think Captain Falcon is in for starting that little brawl?"

Again, Ike replied, "Dunno. I still blame Marth and Zelda for starting it. The bad tension in the room was their fault—"

"There's the lab door!" Ash proclaimed loudly, grabbing his friend by the arm and tugging him along. Ike floundered slightly and missed his footing as they blundered down the end of the metallic hall at a steady lope.

Ash skidded to a halt, releasing the swordsman when Ike piped up, "Mind letting me go already?"

Together the two approached the steel-plated door. Ike stretched out a hand, about to reach for the latch, when the doors slid automatically open to emit them inside.

"Woah...," the two breathed out, entering.

Ash bolted ahead of Ike, declaring in an excited voice, "This is so totally cool, like something out of _Frankenstein_!"

The laboratory was spacious, metallic blue-gray in color. Lining the walls were counters that stretched without breaking, only occasionally interrupted by a sink; above them were cabinets with transparent glass, revealing their contents to be jars containing an amalgam of different things: plants, animals floating around in alcohol, frothing liquids, crushed powders, et cetera.

In the center of the room were long tables topped with trays, silver instruments, beakers, bottles, test tubes and Bunsen burners. Remnants of past experiments still littered the tables, such as the occasional elixir or potion innocently sitting by. Toward the front of the room was a coat hanger and office cabinet, yielding white lab jackets, goggles, gloves, and what appeared to be gas masks and an oxygen tank.

Finally, to the farthest reaches of the lab, was a hospital bed accompanied by a bedside night stand and an operating table, bare and unwelcoming.

Ash's face flooded with rapture as he passed by a row of vials, each distorting his facial appearance through the glass.

Ike grasped the hilt of his sword and trailed reluctantly after Ash, muttering, "Be careful, and don't touch anything that looks dangerous. Knowing Meta Knight, this place is probably a time bomb waiting to be set off."

"You worry too much; lighten up!" soothed Ash, as he peered at Ike through a magnifying glass. A single, enlarged eye blinked at the swordsman.

"_That_ doesn't reassure me," Ike said as he turned around, his cape billowing out behind him. "I just think—gah!"

His sentence turned into an exclamation of fear. On the shelf behind him was a jar containing what looked like a lizard methodically churning in an oily substance. Its sightless gaze was fixed blankly upon the lid of the jar. (A/N: Maybe it's the original "Ultimate Life-Form" project from the ARK.)

"That's just wrong," Ike gasped, taking a step back.

Ash crossed over the room and peered at the lizard. "Could be a distant cousin of Charizard's. Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about my Pokémon."

The Trainer reached for his belt, detaching the three Poké Balls fastened around his waist. Ash hesitated a moment, then yelled, "C'mon out, everybody!" and hurled them at the ground.

The capture systems clanged against the floor, rolled, and emitted a white phosphorous flash that illuminated the room momentarily. Their outlines materialized into their three shapes: a winged reptile, a turtle, and a plant-sporting mammal.

Charizard, Squirtle and Ivysaur exchanged puzzled gazes as they took in the scenery.

"Do what you like until Meta Knight comes with instructions," Ash ordered, "but be careful."

His cautioning fell on deaf ears as the three Pokémon took off in different directions. Ike slapped a palm against his face, shaking it back and forth with resignation and exasperation.

"You can't just let your Pokémon run around a dangerous setting and do whatever the hell they want, Ash," Ike chided.

"Oh, relax, they're smart," Ash retorted, oblivious to the fact that Ivysaur and Squirtle had stumbled upon the operating table at the back of the room and were examining the cutting knives and saws.

Ike spotted them, however, and snorted. "Sure, sure," he retorted in a burly tone, "they're all Eiensteins!"

Following the line of Ike's gaze, the Pokémon Trainer realized what Ike was implying at, and hastily made a beeline for his Water-type; upon reaching Squirtle and Ivysaur, Ash hastily apprehended Squirtle and seized the saw from him, yelling, "_Give me that!_"

He paused, noting the table with its marble surface. "Ike," he called to the swordsman over his shoulder, "isn't this an operating table?"

"Well it sure isn't a water-bed," Ike replied sardonically, joining Ash's side. Charizard lumbered toward them, swinging his torched tail as he went along and knocking several glass cups onto the floor. They broke with ear-shattering _cracks_, splintering into shard-like fragments.

Curiously, Ash ran a finger along the serrated edge of the saw, careful not to prick his skin and draw blood. "I wonder how many times he's had to use this."

Ike understood that "he" implied "dictator."

"What I'm more concerned about are _those_," Ike stated nervously, motioning toward a series of leather straps on either side of the operating table, dangling ominously from the side.

Brows raised, Ash inquired with an edge of hysteria to his tone, "What sort of madman are we living with, anyway?"

"Squirtle, squirt," Squirtle answered, rubbing the back of his broad head.

"Charr," growled Charizard, flexing both wings before compressing them against his backside again.

Then, Ash stole a glance at a corner cabinet he hadn't noticed before. By the bedside it stood, donning hospital gowns, white jackets, gloves, hair nets—everything a surgeon could ever want in life.

His gaze flickered from the clothes, to the marble table, to Squirtle (who was playing with the straps), to the ridiculously large saw in his hands, and then to Ike. Their eyes met, and maniacal grins spread across each of their faces.

* * *

**Hostile Hospital**

Seething with a thousand profanities and verbal abuse, the Star Warrior limped down the hallway with one hand firmly gripping the hilt of Galaxia.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Meta Knight wasn't about to put anything past his "tenants" after the ridiculous display thirty minutes ago in the conference room.

Splotching his cloak were food stains. One could almost mistake and equate him to Mario's sloppiness if they were ignorant enough to believe that Meta Knight was a slob when he ate. (Some were further still under the impression that he ate in secrecy in order to avoid revealing his face. Indeed, many avid fans speculated that he had puckered lips or bucked teeth. The poor soul.)

Now, as he stalked toward the laboratory door like a jaguar on the hunt, what aroused his suspicions and anxiety were the demonic, pained yelps and shrieks that punctuated the vicinity. They were coming _directly from the lab_. At a full-throttle gallop Meta Knight barreled forward; automatically the doors slid open and retreated into the wall to make way for his coming.

Entering he froze, did a double-take, and wondered if Ash and Ike had lost what little sanity their walnut-sized brains had had left.

Cackling, Ash stooped over the table with his white-cloaked back turned toward Meta Knight. He threw back his head with another "_Muwahahahaha!_" and beckoned to his assistant.

Ike seemingly materialized from the shadows in the corner. (Use your imagination.) Feigning being hunch-backed, he lumbered toward the Pokémon Trainer (also sporting a surgically white lab jacket) and bowed. "Master," he croaked in a wheezy voice, "are we ready?"

Meta Knight stiffened. _Ready for what?_ he didn't dare voice aloud.

With a twist of his body, Ash flourished the fringes of his lab coat and turned to face Ike. Both of them were either blissfully ignorant or ignoring the presence of the Star Warrior. Dark chuckles emanated from both of them; and then, just as Ash stepped aside and raised a saw to the bright fluorescent lighting overhead, a very nauseous Meta Knight nearly blanched at the sight he now was being held spectacle to.

Strapped down to the operating table—_his_ operating table that they were now _defiling_—was Squirtle. With a white blanket draped across the Tiny Turtle's bucking and writhing frame, the sight tore his sentiments somewhere between mortified and infuriated.

A _snap_ over skin drew Meta Knight's attention back to Ash, who had slapped on a doctor's mask, just as his "hunch-backed assistant" had also done.

"My poor, poor Pokémon," simpered Ash. Almost carelessly he gestured with the saw and nearly took off Ike's arm in the process. "I'm so sorry, but your situation is indeed a delicate one. You see, the cancer has spread throughout most of your respiratory system. In order to save the patient's life," he addressed Ike ominously, "we must perform an operation. During the surgery we will be forced to replace Squirtle's defective heart with Ivysaur's bladder."

Cautiously the Star Warrior backed out of sight near a row of tables and caught sight of his remaining two Pokémon.

Crammed in a cage probably meant for a small hamster was Ivysaur. The bars pressed against his freckled blue skin, and he let out sporadic yelps of fear and protest.

Almost as if out of a scene from _Jurassic Park_, Charizard was muzzled by several tight cords tied around his snout. The winged reptile was giving off muted roars and twitching his torched tail-tip. From the lack of movement he was displaying, Meta Knight hazarded a guess that Ash had paralyzed Charizard somehow. _Damn Pokémon Trainers and their damn items. First the Revives, and now this_.

Ash vibrated like a massage chair from the force of his mirthless laughter. While Ike snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, the Pokémon Trainer inched the serrated teeth of the saw toward Squirtle. In response he stopped struggling and let out a long gulp.

"I pity the guy who has to clean up the mess we're about to make," Ike said cheerily.

"That would be _me_."

Flinching, Ike and Ash slowly urged their feet to obey and rotate in order to gaze into the yellow-eyed glare of their dictator.

Rapture glowed in the Pokémons' eyes as if they were beholding the messiah sent to rescue them from condemnation.

Pronouncing each word with a deadly softness, Meta Knight growled over his foot-tapping, "What do you two numbskulls think you're doing?"

A long, "Uhhhhhh..." followed his question. The saw clattered at Ash's sneakers as he let it slide out of his sweaty palm.

"I'm waiting." With an advancing step in their direction, Meta Knight unsheathed Galaxia and raised it while one arm was held akimbo.

Stuttering, Ike protested, "We...We...it isn't what you think it is!"

Meta Knight commented acidly, "Oh, so I presume you weren't about to give Squirtle an organ transplant? Or are my eyes deceiving me?" A pause, then: "And since when does Squirtle have _cancer_?"

Under the barrage of questions, Ash was cowed into brooding silence. "Well," he began with a nervous grin, "haven't you ever heard that expression: 'It's only funny until someone gets hurt; then it's hilarious'?"

"Haven't you ever heard that what goes around comes around? If you want, I could _operate_ on you and Ike next, and switch your heads," Meta Knight retorted.

Rather than take heed to Meta Knight's threatening, Ike piped up eagerly, "Sweet! You can actually _do_ that?"

"Yes." Regretfully, he tacked on, "I could also make it possible for neither of you two to ever have children. Your 'manhood' would be displayed in jars of alcohol next to my gecko specimen."

With gulps Ike's and Ash's stares drifted toward the bottled lizard on the upper level of the cabinets. Bobbing, ever so innocently, up and down was the glassy, beady-eyed gecko. It painstakingly made them think of the Geico Gecko commercials. The idea sank in, and with renewed haste they began to untie Squirtle with mumbled apologies under their breaths.

Once finished releasing Ivysaur from his too-cramped cage and using a Paralyze Heal on Charizard to rejuvenate him to animation, both turned toward Meta Knight with sheepish, uneasy looks.

Under his breath, Ash muttered out of the corner of his tight-lipped mouth, "Would he really do that to us?"

A shrug from Ike was his response. "I'm too afraid to find out, man. I happen to like my manhood."

"Now that you two have so kindly stopped trying to commit first degree murder," Meta Knight sighed, "I would like to explain the procedures. First." Gesturing toward the counters, the Star Warrior began: "The tables need to be washed, as there are some rather unfortunate stains that must be removed. It's unsanitary."

To the others' disbelief, on said counters there were red smears and tarnishes that didn't come up when Ike rubbed a finger against the surface. Gasping, he cringed and edged closer toward Charizard for protection.

Ike frowned uneasily. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is..."

"No, it is."

At these rather hopeful words, Ash perked up. "It's ketchup?" he inquired with a weak smile.

Ignoring Ash's remark, he merely shook his head and launched into a long drabble: "During multiple wars, the Halberd served as a vessel for recuperation. While dually serving as a 'hospital,' I also involved myself with my comrades'...amputations."

Surprisingly, both of the swordsman and Trainer hesitated before responding with hysterical laughter. As they clenched their guts and howled with mirth, off to the sidelines—unnoticed, of course—Charizard had snuck away from the group and had begun investigating amongst the shelved elixirs.

Beneath his mask, Meta Knight scowled. "What's so funny about trying to save my comrades' lives?" he asked in an offended tone.

Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, Ike hiccupped, "That's funny, Meta Knight; you should totally be a comedian..."

While the Star Warrior's glare hardened, Ash began to tack on; instantly his snickering subsided.

Something elbowed Ike in the flank. Ash murmured, "I don't think he's kidding, Ike..."

"At least one of you bothers to use your brain," Meta Knight growled.

As if in school, Ash raised his hand meekly.

When Meta Knight noticed, he heaved an exasperated sigh. "I'm not going to beat you with a ruler; you can speak your mind."

"If that's the case," Ash pondered aloud, "then did you just chop off their limbs with Galaxia?"

A vein throbbed near Meta Knight's temple. Seething, he tried to restrain himself from performing amputation on Ash's head, and proceeded with the instructions: "Those instruments"—he gestured toward a glass case located near a sink—"need to be cleaned and disinfected with antiseptic spray."

Ike, the Trainer, and his Pokémon (disregarding a preoccupied Charizard) swung their heads in a similar fashion toward the designated area. Staining the tips and serrated edges to the medical instruments were familiar red, crusty stains akin to the smear on the table.

Both gulped and sobered up rather quickly.

"Next," Meta Knight continued, as he began to turn his back to them and gesture toward another case, "I need you to..."

Actually, given the circumstances, his words sounded more like: "_Blah blah blah, blah, blahblah, blah blahblah, blah_..."

What circumstances, pray tell? Well, while they tried to focus to what their landlord was reciting off of memory, their gazes strayed toward Charizard. Around his snout a glass vial was stuck. Inside a red liquid swished. Their jaws dropped several feet as Charizard puckered his lips and allowed the liquid to slide down his throat. Upon swallowing, the jar slid from his muzzle with a _pop_ and clattered at the reptile's feet.

Meta Knight stopped. While turning around to stare at them, he asked in a strained voice, "Are you two even paying attention?"

Together Ike and Ash chimed, "Yes, sir!"

As Meta Knight resumed his speech that involved demonstrating with the glass case and cabinet, the duo's gazes strayed back toward Charizard.

After a few seconds, nothing happened. Just as Ash was about to sigh with relief, Charizard's skin turned jet-black.

Under his breath, Ash cheered to Ike, "Sweet! I've always wanted a shiny Charizard!"

Directly below Charizard's left arm socket a new limb sprouted from the skin. Charizard's eyes widened in dismay as he flexed the fingers on his newly-generated limb. "Charooh?" he mumbled, shell-shocked.

"Ash," Ike seethed quietly, "I don't think that Charizard was meant to have three arms."

"You're right," Ash agreed quietly. He shrugged helplessly. "He needs another arm to have a matching set. Do you think we can grow one?"

Palm to the face, Ike grunted, "Good idea, bad timing."

"Why—?"

At that precise second Meta Knight was beginning to turn around to face them, all the while saying, "_Blah, blah blah, blahblahblah_..."

"Crouch, boy!" Ash hissed in an undertone. "Quick, behind the counter!"

Sulkily Charizard threw himself against the tiled floor and out of sight just as Meta Knight had completed his 180˚ turn. "..._Blah, blah, blah_. And that's the first step completed. Next, I'll discuss how to organize the cabinets beneath the countertops—"

"NO!" shouted both Ike and Ash.

"Ivy!" Ivysaur yelped.

"Squirt, squirtle squirt!" pleaded Squirtle.

Perplexed, the Star Warrior crossed his arms. "Excuse me?"

"We, uh...," Ash trailed off lamely. An idea flickered over his skull like a lit lightbulb. "We want a more thorough explanation of the glass case before we start with the cabinets."

Ike eagerly nodded in agreement.

A sigh. "If you were actually listening to me, then you'll know that I've already gone over all of the details for managing the case. If there isn't another reason in particular why I shouldn't go on," he stated, meanwhile advancing toward the other side of the counter, "then we'll proceed."

The two humans and two Pokémon gulped.

As the Star Warrior stopped at the opposite end of the counter, he paused. Expecting all hell to have broken loose, Ash actually blinked in shock when Meta Knight continued unbothered: "_Blah, blahblah, blah blah blahblah, blah_..."

Like a cat, Ash hissed softly, "Where the hell did Charizard go?"

Ike prodded Ash with a hand and gestured toward the opposite end of the lab, close toward the exit. "I found your stupid reptile."

"He's not stupi—"

Ash trailed off as he watched Charizard gulp down a keg of sloshing purple liquid. Within less than a heartbeat a three-foot black afro sprouted from his head. It was crudely modeled after the 1960's.

Ike rounded on Ash vehemently. "Fix him!"

Indignant, Ash snapped back quietly, "I _refuse _to neuter him! I'm not robbing my Charizard of his dignity!"

"I meant that ridiculous hairstyle! Send him back to your balls!"

"'Balls'?" Ash repeated in a disgruntled whisper. "What is with you and sexual references today?"

"Not that! The damn _Poké _Balls, you dolt—"

"Ike! Ash!"

At the same second that Meta Knight had snapped their names and painfully begun to turn around, Charizard had raised to his snout a fizzing yellow liquid. Both of them cringed, expecting the end was now here, while Squirtle clung despairingly to Ivysaur. If any of them could have spoken the language of Pokémon, they would have heard Ivysaur praying to Arceus.

While Ash cringed, Ike uttered in a trembling rasp, "I c-cant watch!"

Meta Knight was now facing both the two of them and the exit to the lab. Evidently about to speak, his original sentence trailed off as he pointed over their shoulders. "What is Charizard doing?"

Ash, cringing, made an about-face while expecting the worst, as did Ike.

Across from them stood Charizard, completely normal, his skin bright orange and both his afro and seventh limb gone. Stupefied, the pair could only gape as Meta Knight continued: "Ash, please control your Pokémon." When he said _your_, Charizard shot the knight a withering look. "I really don't want any of them fooling around with my experiments. Some of them are pretty dangerous—"

_Thud!_

Double crashes resounded through the lab as first Ike, then Ash, fainted upon the spot. While Ike's eyeballs rolled back into his head, Ash's arm gave a spasmodic twitch. Both were unconscious.

Around them crouched Meta Knight, Ivysaur, Squirtle, and Charizard, not a hundred percent sure about what to do.

Exchanging bemused glances with the Pokémon, Meta Knight muttered, "Maybe I should have assigned a _different_ pair of imbeciles to take care of the lab..."

* * *

**Three Physics Versus The Training Room**

"...and that is why I'm afraid of hospitals!" stated Lucas, proud and loud as he trailed ahead of Ness and Lucario. In each of their hands was a large crate brimming with supplies (Smash Balls, Bomb-Ombs, Fans, Fireflowers, etc.) and each labeled with the word DANGEROUS.

For the sixteenth time they entered the Training Room, all the while placing their heavy burdens in a corner where other cardboard boxes and crates had been relocated from their home in the basement.

A grin fashioned to his cheeky face, Ness scoffed, "Hospitals aren't that terrible! I mean, really! Crazy operating doctors, horrible mutations from potions, bloodstained knives—really, what world do you live in? Besides, stuff like that only happens in bad fanfictions."

Lucario sighed. "The internet is a dangerous place. You shouldn't go on there. Something bad could happen to you."

Both friends made an about-face to eyeball him curiously. Perplexed, Lucas inquired, "What are you talking about?"

While Ness rolled his eyes, Lucario massaged his chin thoughtfully and frowned. "Well, what if you met someone who spoke a different language and they proposed to you online, and you were stupid enough to type back, 'Sure, lol'? What would you do then?"

"I'd...er...inherit their family's riches and spend the rest of my days living in Puerto Rico with awesome in-laws?" answered Ness tentatively. He gave a nervous laugh.

Meanwhile, Lucas had paused to actually think about the example Lucario had used. He piped up, "Why does it sound you're speaking from experience?"

The box that Lucario had been transporting via Psychic clattered to the ground with its contents of Bomb-Ombs. Fortunately, none of them detonated when they smacked against the steel flooring. Sweat beaded on the Pokémon's face as he held up his palms defensively. "Nothing meant by it," he insisted.

"You're hiding something!" chirped Ness excitedly with a victorious fist-pump to the air.

Somewhere in the back of Lucario's mind a nerve snapped. Goaded by indignation, he retorted, "You're one to talk! The both of you!"

Simultaneously they flinched. Inching a nervous step away, Lucas protested, "W-What are you ta-talking about?"

"Don't feign innocence." Ness' smirk melted off of his face. "You two are up to something. I don't know what, but I'm going to figure it out," the Aura Pokémon promised with a venomous look.

Boldly Ness challenged (obviously driven by his large ego in his even larger head), "What are you going to do? Tell your _Pokémon Master_ that we've been naughty boys?"

Lucas sensed danger long before Ness had, and was desperately beginning to tug at his friend's sleeve. "Don't," he whispered pleadingly. Too late, unfortunately.

Roaring, "I have no master!" Lucario thrust his palms forward and instantly the two kids were levitating in front of him, enshrouded by a binding blue aura. As they squirmed helplessly, he stalked forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with Ness. "I don't need some smart-aleck Trainer telling me to stop you two; I already have enough common sense instilled in me to do so. If we can't reasonably _cooperate_," he sighed, a dangerous silkiness entwined his voice, "then let me reassure you that Pokémon have ways of making humans talk."

Not needing another reason for what he was about to do, Ness angled his index finger at Lucario with major difficulty and called out, "PK Flash!"

Instead of hitting its designated target, the almost invisible bolt-like spark flitted just above Lucario's head and innocently sailed toward the Bomb-Ombs littered across the floor.

Three cries rang out only a heartbeat before the attack made impact:

"Shit!"

"Damn!"

"Fu—"

The sudden explosion from the Bomb-Ombs that cut off Ness was, indeed, another convenient and well-timed parental block by the writers of this story. Smoke, flames, and light encased the trio of psychic as they were flung against the back wall fifty feet away from the detonation site. While the gray veil filtered through the surrounding vicinity, the three of them aimlessly tried to navigate through the cloud of debris and ash.

"Ness, where are you?" cried Lucas as he stumbled through the eye-watering smoke.

"Over here!" Ness shouted back.

"Where is 'here'?" Lucas' desperate cry echoed amidst the smoke cloud. "I can't believe we set off the Bomb-Ombs!"

"I can't believe it's not butter!" Ness called back seriously.

It took a second for Lucas' brain to register Ness' words. With a finger to his ear, he picked at his ear in case there was earwax. Surely he had misheard his friend. This reaction ceased when Lucario growled, "I can't believe you kiss your mother with those lips, Potty Mouth!"

In unison they froze in the midst of their fruitless searching while sprinkler systems in the ceiling went off. Water droplets rained from the ceiling and caused the smoke to extinguish. To their surprise, they were all standing only two feet apart.

"Oh." Thoughtfully Lucas pointed out, "Why were we screaming when we were all this close to each other?"

Before Lucario or Ness could answer, a siren blared across the perimeter of the vast room (might we add that it hardly differs from the rest of the Halberd's interior), and instantly a red light blazed across the tiled floor from the ceiling.

"You imbeciles!" groaned Lucario with a lash of his tail, "What were you thinking?"

"It's not our fault!" Ness protested hotly, all the while oblivious to lasers retracting from sliding panels in the walls.

"Is this a defense system?" whispered Lucas in a tone that carried toward the other psychics' ears. Turning, Lucario questioned him, "What are you going on abou..." and trailed off when he realized what Lucas was staring at.

While the tips of the lasers glowed with pre-charged plasma energy, a female voice rang across the room in a prerecorded, mechanical tone: "INITIATING TRAINING ROOM'S BATTLE MODE SEQUENCE AT LEVEL TEN..."

"That's not so bad," Lucas sighed in relief.

"...THOUSAND. THREE SECONDS UNTIL PRACTICE COMMENCES."

_Beep_.

_Beep_.

_Beep_.

In response to the women's placid command, "INITIATE," lasers sparked like fireflies in late June as overwhelming purple and neon green lights bounced across the tile floor _every other millisecond_. Where the charged particles disintegrated the floor smoked from the intensity of the heat.

First thoroughly bruised, battered, then soaked to the skin, the three _Brawl_ characters felt themselves go numb. With a warning grunt Lucario murmured, "Run."

When neither of the boys responded (they were too mesmerized by the "fireworks" display that had singed Ness' pant legs), Lucario screamed, "RUN!" and shoved the two of them in the nick of time. Where they had stood transfixed a second beforehand the floor now was emitting smoke plumes.

Screaming, they diverged and the three split up into different directions while swerving to avoid being melted into a puddle.

Above the pandemonium Lucas yelled at the top of his lugs, "I DON'T WANT TO LIVE HERE ANYMORE!"

Yep. Day one and they already wanted to move back out.

* * *

**When Books Bite Back: Library**

A wolf-whistle came from Samus as she leaned back against her prop: a wooden park bench that seemingly did not belong in the Halberd's numerous hallways. (Seriously, what is a _park_ bench doing there?) Donned in her fully-fledged suit (minus the helmet), she grinned to herself while a scarlet blush spread across her cheeks. Held before her was this month's issue of _Play Chozo_, which she had invested quite a sum into in order to receive the magazine.

After all, delivery service was expensive between different galaxies. And when it came to finances, her people were extremely stingy about upfront payments and bargains.

Quickly she raised her head and peered down both ends of the hallway.

No one was nearby.

With a relieved exhale she pursued reading. It was embarrassing enough that she, like any sane human being, had lustful hormone-induced urges running rampant. It wasn't her fault. But just because it was natural didn't mean that anybody had to know that she was degrading herself.

To herself she murmured, "Nice abs," and peered above the rim of the pages. Nobody was in the vicinity.

It almost felt criminal, yet it felt so damn good.

_Stupid woman desires,_ Samus cursed. _Why must you torture me and force me to strip myself of all dignity?_

"Strip" was a bad choice of words, and she bit her upper lip guiltily.

Apparently Samus wasn't the only person inflicted by inner turmoil, because a minute later she heard heavy footsteps and the click of armor ring across the hallway.

Panic took over. Anybody, herself included, would have automatically recognized those footsteps. "Meta Knight!" she whimpered. Quickly Samus stood and gazed about the vicinity for a place to stash her _Play Chozo_. Apart from a rather small houseplant across from her, there wasn't anywhere to hide it.

Instinct kicked in, and she abruptly placed it on the bench and squashed it beneath her.

Not a moment too soon Meta Knight came bounding down the hallway, panting, with his right hand affixed on the hilt of Galaxia still sheathed in its case. In his left hand there was small device that resembled a pager. It was blinking, all the while chanting, "_Idiot alert! Idiot alert! Idiot alert!_"

It was both fascinating and annoying.

While he sprinted by her, Samus could hear him swearing, "Jesus Christ, what sins have I committed to deserve this?"

Around the corner and he was gone.

Samus, subjected to shock, could only jaw-drop and eye-twitch in the direction he had disappeared in. "Did Meta Knight just...ignore me? He didn't even notice that I wasn't doing chores?"

Taking this as an interpretation to actually start working, Samus quickly placed the magazine on the floor at her feet, fired up her laser, and incinerated the _Play Chozo_ issue into a pile of dust.

In an undertone she vowed, "No one must ever know," and hastily she scooped the dust from her hands into the flower pot. Hey, it at least fertilized the plant.

A long sigh escaped her lips as she began to trek determinedly down the hallway in the opposite direction of Meta Knight. Right, right, and left down three hallways she travelled before Samus arrived at a room with its door partially open. Said room was a library. Adorned with books of every thickness, color, and language, the tomes perched upon the shelves like demonic vultures. Several round tables were situated throughout the room, along with a computer desk and laptop stationed near the very back corner by a window.

"Wow. I never knew that Meta Knight was a bibliophile." Samus cautiously stepped into the room, advancing with wariness while she attached her feather duster to the laser end on her suit's right arm. Almost as if it had been mechanically designed to connect to the inner core of the suit's arm, the duster clicked into place. When she tested it by using her free left hand to tap a button, the feather duster whirred to life and rotated in the holster.

"I didn't think that would actually work. Go figure."

Her words echoed around the empty room and ricocheted against the shelves. After a brief hesitation she edged near a shelf, duster raised and brandished like a sword, and prodded the dusty woodworks. A fine layer of gray specks coated the shelf. Grinning, Samus proclaimed, "Let the dusting commence!" before she pressed the button that set the duster into action.

Obviously the library had been abandoned centuries ago—in spite of the rather advanced-looking laptop—because the contact between the cleaning utensil and shelves sent a mob of angry dust bunnies at Samus.

Yelping and sneezing, she toppled to the floor. As her vision gyrated, then stabilized, she struggled to sit up due to the extreme coating of dust and grime powdering her from head to toe. Sneeze after sneeze punctuated the air as Samus hauled herself vertically upright and leaned against a shelf for support. Between outbursts she complained, "Screw this!" and detached the feather duster from the holster. Any previous intentions of cleaning had fled.

While she dusted herself off, she grumbled, "May as well do some exploring," and staggered slightly toward a random section of the library. Tears filled her eyes, and in response she blinked furiously to try and rid her poor eyeballs of the dust particles. Vision clear, she stopped cautiously before a section of shelves labeled SOUND GALLERY.

Below the plaque mounted into the wood was a brief sentence: _Hear, don't read, what our words have to say!_

"Odd," remarked Samus. "Unless someone is reading a book to you, then this makes no sense..." Despite her better judgment, she entered the aisle.

Nestled between an animal encyclopedia and Latin dictionary was a book called, _Foghorns Galore_.

Shrugging to herself, she decided, "What the heck," and hauled it from its crammed space between the thicker volumes.

Fingers pressed against the crease of the pages, Samus pried open the book.

An explosive gust of wind poured out of the pages and thrust back her hair, all the while a massive, eardrum-shattering deep horn groaned from the contents of the book. With a yelp of terror, Samus struggled to slam the book shut. As she managed to force the book to close, the wind and foghorn noise died down with it.

Gasping, she leaned against a shelf while she hugged herself protectively. In her hand the book trembled from the force of her shivering. Meanwhile, Samus' hair had spiked up like a Super Saiyan's. Without realizing how she looked, she carefully slipped the book back into the spot where she had found it originally.

"If that's what the foghorn book did," Samus murmured aloud, "then what would the animal encyclopedia sound like?"

Not willing to find out, she hastily fled from that particular section of the library. Into a corner labeled MYTHOLOGY she walked. Nothing about the title of this section appeared misleading; there was absolutely no way that the books in the MYTHOLOGY section could be dangerous, right?

Wrong.

Copies of ancient, archaic tomes were pressed side-to-side on a particularly dusty shelf. Their covers were scribed in runes not known to any language she had ever heard before. With relief she selected a book fashioned out of velvety moleskin. Over the edges of the front and back hardcover were pointy flaps of binding that protected the pages. A leather strap was hooked between the front and back covers. Most peculiar of all were a set of black, lustrous orbs at the center of the cover.

"This is interesting," said Samus to no one in particular. Some would have argued that talking to one's self was a sure sign of insanity, but we know otherwise.

Aloud she mused, "Why does it have two jewels on the front?" before adding, "And why would anyone bother in the first place?" While she began to undo the strap, she continued: "It's so ugly to begin with, so why would anyone within their right mind give it jewels to make it look better? Not that it helps, anyway."

Just as the buckle slid from around the pages' binding, to her surprise the orbs flickered in her direction with a set of beady, furious pupils dilating.

"They're EYES?" Samus yelped while still stupidly holding onto the book.

Snarling, the book flung its jaws open to the index page, where Samus could just barely read in neatly-printed English: _The Monster Book of Monsters_, by J.K. Rowling.

"IT'S ALIVE!" she screamed, and without further ado she tossed it to the floor just as Mr. Monster Book began to go _Om nom nom nom_. Apparently insulting a carnivorous piece of literature was a costly mistake.

In automatic self defense she threw herself atop a nearby round table while Mr. Monster Book began to gnaw at the table's legs.

"Back!" she yelped. "Back, you savage beast!" With a blaster she aimed at the book and shot. A second before the neon flare pinged against the ground, the book flapped its bindings and ducked out of harm's way. The stunned book shook its head like a bedraggled dog, slobbering as it did so with a menacing grunt, and she didn't waste time in diving off of the table and sprinting madly for the door.

At her heels the book followed in blind chase while snarling like a rabid junkyard dog. Its pursuit ended abruptly as the Chozo woman flung open the library door, slammed it shut, and quickly melted the frame into the wall by heating it with a blast from her laser. On the opposite side of the door J. K. Rowling's creation gave off a ghastly howl.

Panting, Samus declared in a ragged breath, "That should...stop it...," and she immediately decided that her job was done. Nothing in hell—apart from that man-eating novel—could convince her otherwise.

With cautious steps she wandered down the hallway, wondering how her comrades were fairing.

* * *

**Vacuums Suck**

_Flush_.

Impatiently Olimar waited outside of the bathroom door for his five Pikmin to finish using the bathroom. _Although_, he tacked on sourly, _this is getting ridiculous._ Five minutes was a reasonable amount of time to take in the bathroom; ten was pushing it. But thirty minutes?

"Honestly," Olimar seethed, "what could they possibly be doing in there?"

And this wasn't the first flush he had heard from the other side of the door, either. Albeit his suspicions, he was becoming deeply concerned for his children. You see, even though Pikmin are hermaphrodites that reproduce by the hundreds (although never quite able to replace their populations that are constantly being devoured by Bulborbs), Olimar proudly claimed all 1,623 Pikmin in the _Hocotate_ as his children. Overcome by surmounting worry, he tapped on the door and called out, "Are you guys okay in there?"

Another flush answered him, followed by several yelps and chirps.

"That's it!" The switch for his internal parental setting switched from _off_ to _on_, and with all of the horribly-lacking-upper-body strength he could muster, Olimar rammed into the door. Despite the fact that it had been rehinged by Meta Knight just after lunch, he had done a terrible job at actually fixing it. Unsurprisingly, it flew off of the hinges and caved inward onto the bathroom floor.

The space captain gaped with surprise. If logic hadn't actually applied to our story, then we would have permitted his space helmet (fishbowl) to crack at the sight he now witnessed.

The Blue, Yellow, Red, and Purple Pikmin were splashing in the toilet bowl. Meanwhile, his White Pikmin was entertaining itself by using somebody's unfortunate toothbrush as a scrubbing utensil.

Before Olimar could react, all of the Pikmin rotated their gazes toward him. Their eyes widened, and imperiously the Red Pikmin beckoned to its white comrade. In response the White Pikmin saluted it, nodded once, and jumped at the toilet handle.

Olimar's screech of, "_Nooooooo!_" was drowned out as the first four began to spin in the gushing water. Crouching, the White Pikmin let out a shriek of delight as it propelled itself into the dark abyss of the toilet and began to swish 'round and 'round.

Within a matter of seconds they had vanished from sight.

Crying out, "My Pikmin!" Olimar launched himself at the toilet seat and thrust his arm into the plumbing. His hand groping down the pipe, he hissed, "Get back here!" and felt his fingers grasp around the tip of a leaf.

At that same second, Samus—after her own nightmarish predicament—was returning from the library, happening to pass conveniently by the open (or rather, _doorless_) bathroom and stop when she saw Olimar fishing in the toilet.

"Got'cha!" he cried out triumphantly, and Samus felt a bead of sweat trickle through her hair. Embarrassed, she gave an awkward cough that caused Olimar to stop what he was doing in the process.

Swinging his head in her direction, his jaw dropped open when he realized she was standing at the entrance to the bathroom, a dumbfounded look on her face.

Arms dangling limply at her side, Samus inquired somewhat uncertainly, "Am I...interrupting...something?"

"Not at all!" answered the space captain. Before he could explain his predicament, his grip on the Pikmin's stem was lost. Snarling, "I lost them!" he scanned the surface of the water for any telltale signs of movement. In utter vexation he yelled into the toilet's bowels, "Get back here you little shits!" and shoved his upper torso into the toilet.

Obviously Samus received the wrong impression, and with renewed haste she backed away, all the while consoling herself, "After what I've seen today, nothing can surprise me ever again."

Five minutes of plumbing-exploration later, Olimar emerged drenched from the toilet with several sodden Pikmin. As he wrung their leaves of all filthy liquid, he scolded them, "Don't you ever DARE do that again!"

The Pikmin all began to jump around him in a ritualistic sort of tribal jig that anyone except Olimar would have noticed. Fondly the space captain scooped them into his arms, hugging them protectively while proclaiming, "Don't scare me like that! I thought that I was going to lose you!"

Upon setting them down on the tiled floor, the Pikmin began to clamor excitedly and scramble out of the bathroom. With a grin he trekked after them, letting the Pikmin take the lead as they returned toward the hallway where they had left the vacuum unplugged.

From within one of his space suit's coat pocket's he withdrew a folded piece of parchment that somehow was still dry. While he began to unfold the instruction manual for the vacuum, his Pikmin lined up obediently like military soldiers.

Aloud Olimar read: "'Step one—turn the coarse adjustment knob to the _max filter_ setting.'"

Nodding, the Blue Pikmin darted forward and twisted the knob.

"'Step two—select the red button from the main valve at the back of the vacuum, nearest to the cable export.'"

His Red Pikmin hurdled past the Blue Pikmin and delicately tapped said button.

"'Step three—enter the dial code 3-4-2-7 for the automatic filth regulator that targets anything deemed unsanitary.' Well, that should be easy enough."

With a chirp of delight, the Yellow Pikmin clambered toward the handle of the vacuum where a four-digit enter code was required. Accordingly it pressed the correct buttons and saluted Olimar.

Beaming, the space captain continued: "'Step four—press the eject button near the cable export to release the power cable that plugs into any common household outlet.'"

The rather heavyset Purple Pikmin waddled to the right side of the vacuum, tapped a green button that immediately expelled a long cord with two prongs at the end. Happily he picked up the extension cord and rushed it (at a snail's pace) to Olimar.

"Thank you," he addressed his "soldier" before proceeding with the final instruction: "'Step five—attach Mountain Pine Air Freshener to vacuum handle for that minty freshness!' Wait...," he trailed off, "what the hell? Not only is that the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, but the air freshener isn't even included with the vacuum! Somebody should file a complaint."

In agreement the Pikmin joyously bounced up and down.

Puzzled, Olimar scanned the bottom of the instruction sheet. "But who is this product by, anyway? Who's the corporate head honcho?"

To his disbelief, at the bottom of the manual it said, _Copyright © Nintendo_.

He shrugged. "Go figure," he mused. "Alright," he called to the assembled Pikmin, "I'm going to go look for an outlet and plug this in! Wait right here."

As Olimar began to search for an outlet, the Pikmin swarmed around the vacuum. Their eyes stared with awe at the strange mechanical beast. Knees bent, the Yellow Pikmin crouched before vaulting itself upward in an airy spring that allowed it to grab onto the handle. Following its example, the Red Pikmin sprang upward, followed by the Purple, Blue, and White Pikmin. Each held onto the other's feet, forming a chain that ended with the White Pikmin's feet just barely grazing the bottom of the floor.

Just as Olimar cried out, "It's in the socket!" the White Pikmin's dangling feet kicked against the on button, thus resulting in the vacuum revving to life.

Glaring lights at the front of the vacuum flickered. A loud, droning hum rose from the motorized engine, and the words AUTOMATIC on the side of the vacuum were highlighted in green.

Realizing that the vacuum had been successfully placed on the correct setting, he cheered, "Great! Now all I have to do is sit back and re—"

His sentence was shortened, as well as his life expectancy, because the vacuum swiveled around and revved its engine. Beneath the hood its lights flickered, while the wheels rotated in place in a rather threatening manner.

Olimar sighed. "I hate my life. Debt, and now this?"

Only seconds after he uttered those words did the vacuum charge.

With a split second to spare he barrel rolled out of the way while the vacuum smacked in a direct collision with the wall. Scrambling to his feet, Olimar spun around, worrying how his Pikmin had survived the outcome. To his extreme relief, they were still clinging to the handle.

"Phew." His exclamation halted as he watched the vacuum slowly throw itself into reverse and take his clinging Pikmin along with it.

"Okay, that's it; no more Mr. Nice Olimar," the space captain growled. Pounding a fist into his palm, he sidestepped just as the vacuum swirved at him. While it continued to drive past him, Olimar threw himself at the outlet and ripped the cord out of the wall. "There!" he breathed out shakily. "No more crazy vacuum... Uh?"

His hopeful statement died while his eyes widened. Against all possibilities, the vacuum's lights flickered on, and the vacuum somehow began to wheel forward in a slow, threatening manner. Either the Pikmin were too terrified or too stupid to let go, because they continued to form a Pikmin chain-ladder onto the vacuum's handle.

"Oh you've got to be [CENSORED] kidding me," swore Olimar to himself.

Suddenly, the rather eerie and creepy voice of his former employer and the corporate boss of Hocotate Freight whispered, "_Run, Olimar_."

Letting loose a shrill scream, Olimar took off down the hallway with the demonic vacuum in hot pursuit. Meanwhile, the Pikmin chain-ladder continued to wail in protest.

* * *

**Somewhere Far, Far Away... (Well, Not Really; Two Rooms Down, To Be Exact)**

Even though the overall appearance of the Halberd was, to say the least, metallic blue-gray and virtually never-ending, it did have its occasional nice "chill rooms," as Sonic had dubbed them.

The largest of these "chill rooms" was on the first floor at the very center of the ship. Although the flooring and walls were the same blue-white color, they shone with a polished, metallic luster. Several red sofas were lines in a semicircle facing a flickering, warm fireplace with a circular carpet at the forefront.

A small bookcase sat next to a window, with a few random books littered on the shelves. Resting on the top shelf was a fish tank with a Blooper in it.

To the farthest left corner was a bar counter with high, mahogany wood stools propped along the rim. Although there were cabinets inside of the counter, alcoholic beverages had been banned decades ago (due to a certain mask-wearing knight).

Currently occupying the room were Peach, Pikachu, Fox, Falco, Pit, the Kongs, and Wolf.

Resting in front of the fireplace, Pikachu snoozed lightly before the lively amber flames as he tried to dry himself off. Unlike Olimar, he hadn't willingly volunteered to go scuba-diving head first in the toilet.

With her Meta Knight-free moment, Peach was enjoying herself by immersing herself in a steaming hot cup of earl gray tea. Not far off, DK was content with playing to his bongos to a Bob Marley song, _Buffalo Soldier_. While the older of the two primates was practicing with a musical instrument, Diddy had nestled into a purple beanbag all the while sporting a pair of circular reading glasses. Clasped between his dexterous fingers was _Lord of the Flies_.

This perfect epitome of tranquility was broken from a loud howl of despair in a corner by the small bookcase.

Rocking back and forth in the fetal position was Wolf. Still a dazzling white color after having been bathed, he was currently pitying himself and expressing his melancholy by whimpering like a whipped dog.

A nerve twitched near Pit's temple. As he rose from his crouch, the angel banged his skull against the open cabinet drawer he had been previously ransacking at the back of the bar counter.

"WOLF!" snapped Pit as he rubbed his tender forehead. "Do you have to keep howling every ten seconds? It's getting annoying!"

"B-But," Wolf sobbed, glancing up with a depressed glaze to his eyes, "I'm white, Pit. _White_. I'm a gray wolf that's white. There's flawed logic behind that statement," he tacked on while resuming his rocking. "What if my parents lied to me my entire adolescence about being a gray wolf?"

Unsympathetic, Pit pointed out, "There's nothing we can do about it. If you want to fix the problem, go down the Michael Jackson path, O grasshopper."

Silence ensued, followed by Pit's final remark accompanied by a grin: "You're WHITE, Wolf. Now get over it and stop being such an emo racist."

With that said, the angel chidingly shook his head before disappearing behind the bar counter to pillage.

Smiling, Peach glanced up and pointed out to Wolf, "If this makes you feel any better, you're fine the way you are. So what if your parents lied about the truth for years and years without thinking of how traumatized you would be, or how much therapy you would require?"

Sarcastically Wolf cut in, "That makes me feel _so_ much better."

Snorting, DK looked up from his bongos and rolled his eyes. "You're both ridiculous. Wolf, just dye your fur. No, wait; actually, you two are the oddballs here," DK reasoned with a prominent glance aimed at the two Star Fox cadets. "Since when do you two KNIT?"

True to what DK had said, indeed Fox and Falco were by the fireplace knitting. Well, Fox was actually holding a ball of yarn while Falco was sitting on one of the deep red sofas with a pair of plastic hand needles.

Falco glared back at DK and pronounced with faux superiority, "First of all, this is crocheting, _not_ knitting. There is a distinct difference between the two. Secondly, there's nothing wrong with it!"

"How sweet," giggled Peach.

Falco sulked and kicked his legs against the sofa cushion.

"Well," DK snorted, "_excuse_ me, She-Who-Weaves-Delicate-Fabrics."

Diddy chortled under his breath as he tried to concentrate on the scene where Jack was hunting the pig in his book.

Fox's chin jerked up in surprise as he shot his comrade a bewildered look. "Wait," he interjected, "we're not knitting?"

Wings spread wide in exasperation, Falco cuffed Fox over the head and retorted, "Fox, we've been doing this for five years and you've _never known the difference_?"

He cringed and tried to shrink into himself and look as unobvious as possible. "...Maybe."

A long pause followed before Pit's exasperated "Argh!" sounded throughout the vicinity. With another _bang_, Pit withdrew his now aching head out from underneath the cabinet. "Where does Meta Knight keep his stash?"

"What stash?" Peach inquired, batting her eyelashes innocently.

Crossing his arms like a pouty four-year-old, he marched away from the bar counter and plopped directly onto the sofa beside the Mushroom Princess. "His booze!" he grumbled. "His rum! His liquor! His alcoholic whatever! God," he moaned while he slumped his face against the arm of the sofa, "I need something to drink."

"But you don't drink," Diddy pointed out without taking his eyes off the page he was reading.

Into the soft, cushiony fabric of the sofa Pit mumbled, "After everything I've been through today, nothing would make me happier than to blot all of those unpleasant memories from my mind."

With a sip of her tea, Peach drew back from the rim of the teacup and commented, "In the Mushroom Kingdom, I have complete authority to arrest or imprison anybody who is in the possession of anything that makes you act loopy."

"You don't even allow people to have sugar rushes?" whined Wolf.

Peach's simple response was a cheerful, "Nope!"

"Dang," Fox remarked. Under his breath he murmured, "And we thought that Meta Knight was bad."

"No wonder all of the Toads look like they're going to crack at any minute," Falco remarked in an undertone as he continued to crochet.

Aloud, Fox began to say to Pit, "You know, Meta Knight did have Gewürztra—"

Throwing his crocheting tools aside, hastily Falco slapped a wing over Fox's muzzle and hissed, "Shut up!"

While Diddy flipped a page he inquired casually, "What does Meta Knight have?"

"Grapes!" Falco hastily blurted out. "He, er, had GRAPES. Yeah, that's it..."

Several "oh's" followed his poorly-concealed outburst before another peaceful pause followed. This rather precious moment of stability amidst our brawlers' chaotic lives was interrupted as Olimar ran through the room, screaming at the top of his lungs, "THE VACUUM'S ALIVE" before charging through another doorway.

The eight other occupants in the "chill room" glanced up in time to see a ravenous, flesh-eating vacuum with five Pikmin clinging to the handle speed through the room. Its engine revved, and the mechanical deathtrap emitted a snarl as it pursued a rather foul-smelling Olimar into the next room.

Before anyone else could begin to wonder what in hell had just transpired, Diddy—while he flipped a page—commented, "My only parting advice to Olimar is: 'Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!'"

Another stunned silence followed, punctuated by several screams, the crashes of glass shattering, and a cry for help that distinctly sounded like Pikminese.

* * *

**Authors' Note**: We are so so so so so so so so so sorry that we have abandoned you all and neglected _Life Aboard the Halberd_.

_You see, the truth is, it started off when we were captured by French spies who took us to their capital because we were the only option for saving the Earth. Aliens were trying to destroy the dolphin race, and we were the only way to save dolphinkind. Instead of the MEN IN BLACK, there was the WIB, or WOMEN IN BLACK. We were trained in rigorous obstacle courses in preparation for a year-long war with the invaders, which in the end proved futile due to the fact that the mothership was struck by a meteor. This meteor not only saved us by colliding with the aliens' ship and sending it into the sun, but it also missed its original target—Earth—and we were thus saved from another K.T. Event. In Atlantis Poseidon rewarded us for saving the dolphin race (even though we did absolutely nothing)._

All of this took place over the course of this past year.

The End.

_Well, that, and we actually have lives not computer-related, too._

But we're back, and we're ready to kick some ass with our awesome fanfiction!


	8. Chores: PT 6

Well, I think it's fair to say that anyone who has been awaiting an update more than deserves a pat on the back.

_We commend you, patient readers, for we have been lazy sloths._

And to reward such devotion, we're proud to present the final part of chapter two.

_Enjoy._

* * *

**Down In The Ducts**

"I hate my job."

Link's complaint rang throughout the compact, narrow passageway. Said complaint wasn't uncalled for, per say, considering that the current duct scaled vertically at a ninety degree angle. To counter this setback, Link had decided to use his grappling hook for scaling the inclining duct.

A duct that was filled with rats.

While climbing up the rope, Toon Link huffed in response, "I miss the good old days."

"Defeating Ganon," Link echoed in nostalgia.

With a wistful sigh Toon Link tacked on dreamily, "Saving Zelda."

"Shoving Navi into a jar."

"Setting goblins on fire."

"Turning into a wolf."

"Sailing the seas with that creep Linebeck."

"Traveling between parallel dimensions…"

Something at that second clicked in Toon Link's brain, and while dangling from the rope, he swung a backward look over his shoulder to remark, "More or less, we've done the same things, considering we're the same person."

"Whatever you want to call it," Link snorted, trying to single-handedly cling to the rope and shrug. "How far do these stupid ducts extend, anyway? We've been crawling around in here for an hour, and I can't see a thing!"

"Dunno," his counter-part snapped. "Do something about it!"

"If only we'd brought—wait!" Still dangerously swinging one-handed on the rope, Link groped in the darkness for the space where his head should have been. After a second of panic-induced search, he discovered the hard helmet's built-in flashlight. "I knew that wearing these things would be a great idea!"

Still trying to peer into the abyss below him, Toon Link remarked, "Did you wear your other hat under the hard helmet?"

"Your point?"

"Nothing," he scoffed. "I just pity Navi."

Incredulous silence followed, until Toon Link tacked on robustly, "NOT." More loudly, he called down over Link's renewed chuckling, "Hey, hurry up and turn on the light!"

In response to his demand, a blinding light like twelve miniature suns illuminated the narrow shaft. Overwhelmed by the brilliance, Toon Link threw up both hands to shield his face. As the words, "My eyes!" echoed through the vent, Toon Link plummeted. Unfortunately, he had forgotten that he needed to cling to the rope with both hands instead of shielding his eyes.

The domino-effect wasn't pretty.

Three seconds after Link had twisted the built-in flashlight, Toon Link fell on top of him in a dazed state. Startled, the older version released the rope, sending him, Toon Link, and the now-dislodged grappling hook into the depths of the air ducts. Worse, as the two rolled painfully end-over-end down the vertical vent, they had the fortune of tumbling into a secondary duct.

Above the sheering velocity of the wind, Link screeched, "We're dead!"

"I hate game over!" Toon Link sobbed, all the while receiving terrible friction burns as he slid against the metallic walls. "Especially when we don't have extra lives to come back!"

Without warning, they made impact on a slanted surface that may have been yet another duct. Groaning, Link tried to sit up, only to slide forward on his hands. The sudden gravity brought understanding to his panicking brain: the bottom _didn't _level out.

"Here we go ag—aiiiiiiiiin!" Together the two slid down a forty-five degree angle. It was like the world's most dangerous waterslide, only there wasn't any water to soften the trip down. However…

Over Link's screaming sounded Toon Link's whoops of glee. "DUUUUDE, THIS IS FUUUUN! WHAT ARE WE SLIDIIIING ON, ANYWAY?"

"I DON'T KNOOOOOOW!"

Another bone-jarring impact cut off the yelling/cheering from the two Links. In a disheveled heap they rolled across a relatively flat floor cushioned by some spongy substance. Grinding to a halt side-by-side, the two lay dazed for a few seconds. Toon Link broke the silence: "That was fun."

With a grunt of pain, Link propped himself up on his elbows. "You okay?"

"Never been better, considering our landing was soft."

In his attempt to sit up a little straighter, Link's throbbing skull made abrupt contact with the still-narrowed duct. A long string of swears followed the action as Link fumbled for the built-in flashlight. With his eyes still squeezed shut, he rotated the knob until the lights gradually dimmed down.

His eyesight adjusting to the less harsh glare, Toon Link began to haul himself into a hunched crouch. Aloud, he wondered, "So what did we land on? Mold?"

To answer his question, Link turned his head toward the base of the shaft they were sitting on. Illuminated by the light was a fresh coating of rat poop.

Fighting back the nausea he felt coming on, Link gagged, "Take a look."

With a dazed sort of blink, Toon Link took in his cramped surroundings, jaw-dropping. Every inch of the duct they were in was slathered in rat crap like icing on a birthday cake. Why hadn't they noticed the smell, either? That's when Link came to rather simple yet absurd conclusion:

"We're covered in it, aren't we?"

"Ew! Ew! Ew!" Toon Link's squeal of disgust echoed down the length of the duct. In vain he attempted to wipe his hands on his rat poop-covered tunic. "Oh, god! It's just making it worse!" Turning to Link, he demanded, "Let me borrow your sleeve!"

With a withering look through half-lidded eyes, Link recoiled and began to inch away. "No way! Besides, I'm covered in the crap too!"

Toon Link struck out his hand in a desperate grab at Link's head. "Your hat was protected by the helmet! C'mon, let me borrow it for one second!"

Aghast, Link scooted out of reach and further into the depths of the unexplored vent. "It's my hat! Besides, if I give it to you, you'll let Navi out!"

"If we're technically the same person"—saying this, Toon Link continued to crawl through the rat poop after him—"then it doesn't matter because _your _hat is also _my_ hat!"

Perhaps it was the cramped space. Maybe it was because the air duct was dark, musty, and filled with rat poop. For whatever the reason, Link felt like he was in mortal jeopardy. "The fumes of feces are going to your head! Let's just find a way out..."

"MINE!" Toon Link's single word was the only prompt Link needed to continue crawling onward.

Fast.

Sure, both of them were covered in bruises and rat dung, but that didn't seem to dissolve either of their needs for the pointy green poop-free hat. It was probably a disease related to Mario's and Luigi's: they couldn't live without their hats.

It was only when Link rounded a bend in the passageway did he abruptly stop. Panting, Toon Link made a Gollum-esque grab for Link's ankle and wheezed, "_My precious._"

"Shh!" Wildly Link swung around and clamped his hands over Toon Link's mouth. (Which, incidentally, was still lathered in rat poop.) That sudden awareness caused Toon Link to squirm and whimper as he tried not to retch. Using his free right hand, the older Link pointed. "Look."

Apparently the shaft they had been crawling through opened up into a larger ten-by-fifteen chamber with a twelve-foot high ceiling. Sitting in the center of the metallic-paneled room was a worn generator, vibrating slightly. Judging by the rust, it was just a disused hunk of metal.

But what caught their attention was the rat empire erected around it.

Any sort of discarded boxes or food containers were propped upside down as "houses," with holes chewed into the sides like doors, only rat-sized. Sheets of scrap metal had been laid on the floor as walkways. Larger containers were emitting faint wisps of smoke from holes cut into the roofs of the boxes. What looked like an icebox lay off to the side in one corner. Rats were streaming in and out of it with food between their paws and in their mouths. From somewhere in the ceiling water was trickling down the wall, forming a small puddle that the rats were drinking from or bathing in.

Ironically, the rodents' little paradise was the only part of the ducts devoid of their own poop.

In unison Toon Link and Link exhaled softly.

As Link removed his palm from Toon Link's mouth, the younger counterpart whispered, "Woah." He pinched himself, just to make sure he wasn't unconscious from his fall through the air ducts. "We're not dreaming, right?"

Slowly Link gestured toward the rats. "I think we have more than just an infestation. Look; they even have schools and government offices."

Grinning nervously from ear-to-ear, Toon Link remarked quietly, "Puts people to shame, doesn't it?"

In the midst of their spying from the duct's entrance, Navi had somehow managed to painstakingly squeeze herself partially out of the hard helmet.

In an equally hushed whisper, the fairy piped up, "Hey, listen!"

"SHUT UP, NAVI!" Years of reacting violently to her catchphrase had left Link with an extremely good set of lungs and vocal cords. So it shouldn't have been surprising that all of the rats turned their heads as a single entity and hissed. Their beady eyes adopted a reddish gleam, and when one of the rats threw open its jaws, a sharpened set of incisors caught the dim light from the generator.

While both Links still crouched on their knees, Navi finished her thought: "We should leave."

"No shit, Sherlock." Toon Link's sarcastic jab was almost drowned out by the thousands of squeaks coming from the rats. As a unit, they surged forward, their teeth clicking and tiny feet pattering against the floor.

"Run!" Link's yelp of terror was ignored by his fairy and counterpart, both of whom shot him dubious looks.

Emphasizing with slow hand gestures, Toon Link stated, "The vents don't go anywhere but up. We can't climb those!"

Unhelpfully Navi interjected, "Well, _I_ can fly!"

"I really hate my job," bemoaned Toon Link as the two reluctantly retreated in an ungainly crawl back down the poop-covered vent.

Toward a dead end.

On hands and knees, Link tried to scramble up the inclining shaft, only to slip back down due to the angle and squishy rat droppings.

"Trapped," Navi observed, still peering out from under the helmet. "Trapped like rats."

Link's and Toon Link's glares sent the tiny fairy back under the helmet completely.

Although the two were still covered in rat poop, they hugged each and faced the swarm of approaching rodents. Link vowed," This is the end..."

Likewise, Toon Link tacked on, "I can see the bright light!" and he shoved his face into Link's sleeve with a teary, choked sob.

The rat colony was only six feet from them when Link repeated aloud, "Bright light? _Light! _That's it!" Hands trembling, he gripped the knob around the flashlight and gave it a violent twist. Phosphorous light shot out of Link's head and flooded the narrow duct. Screeches of agony rent the foul-smelling air as the rats instantly recoiled and scrabbled back down the duct from whence they came. Egged on, Link plowed forward with a triumphant shout of, "Back, you demonic beasts!"

Tentatively Toon Link scurried after him back into the generator room, where the rats cowered from their "houses" in fear of the scalding light. Evidently this was the result of living in the air ducts for who knows how long. Not only did the beacon repel the rats, but it also broadened the scope of the room, revealing—

"Another duct!" cheered Toon Link, making a beeline for the escape route. "Let's go!"

Without a word Link followed him backwards into the tunnel, careful to keep the flashlight fixed on the rat city until they were well into the newest passageway. Once certain that they wouldn't follow, Link dimmed the lights and sighed in relief. Luckily there wasn't any crap in these ducts; just dust and dirt accumulated over the years.

Several strained minutes later, they paused to catch their breath. By now it was impossible to tell what section of the ship they were in.

Still kneeling, Toon Link puffed in an asthmatic sort of way," Do you think... we lost them?"

"I'm afraid... to look back," gasped Link as he clutched his rib cage.

"I vote that we just try to find the nearest exit," Toon Link suggested pathetically.

"Agreed."

Toon Link reluctantly shifted his position to face Link, muttering, "And you know what? This day has been nothing but—" He stopped mid-speech upon noticing a black spider the size of a large house cat sitting on Link's shoulder. His mouth went dry with unparallel fear. "Link...?"

Eyebrow quirked, Link inquired, "Yes?" Of course he was oblivious to the thirty-pound spider perched on his shoulder like a parrot.

In a cracked whisper he stated, "Don't make any sudden movements. Over your shoulder..."

Not registering what his companion was saying, a nonplussed Link turned his head partway to come eye-to-eyes with the arachnid. For a long heartbeat, Link stared stupidly, able to see his reflection in its eight lusterless eyes. Some sort of instinct kicked in, prompting him to slam his shoulder against the duct. The shaft trembled as Link thrashed in the pale gloom, screaming in a high-pitched voice, "_Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!_"

Toon Link sighed. "Link—"

"Kill it! Kill it! Please, get it off of me!"

"_Link_—"

"Help me!"

"LINK!"

At the sound of Toon Link's deafening yelp, Link abruptly slumped against the now-dented duct. "Yes?"

Pointing to the sides of the shaft, Toon Link seethed in exasperation, "You killed it."

Sure enough, the black spider was slumped against the base of the duct, its legs splayed outward and chest still.

A bead of sweat rolled down Link's brow. Exhaling loudly, he sighed, "Thank Farore," and fondly rubbed the skin on his left hand where the Triforce of Courage was engraved. The gesture was reminiscence of a person stroking a rabbit's foot for luck. "Just—Just give me a second to catch my—"

"I see a light! And it isn't coming from your head!" Toon Link's triumphant exclamation drowned out Link's remark, and before the older "prototype" could argue, Toon Link had already crawled ahead and around another corner.

"—breath," Link concluded sulkily. Snorting with mixed annoyance and gratitude, he winced and pursued the other Link around the bend. To his surprise, Toon Link was crouched over a grated opening through which light was seeping.

As Link scooted closer, Toon Link proclaimed, "Two things. First: this is the worst day ever. Secondly: these aren't just ducts." Gesturing through the thick mesh grate, he whispered excitedly, like a kid in a candy shop, "They're secret passage ways. Look." Together they peered down.

* * *

**Outside, Yet Again**

"—and I think you'll be very impressed with our handiwork," Sonic was declaring with his trademark thumbs-up.

Meta Knight, who was pacing down the hallway with Sonic and Snake, merely made a curt remark: "We shall see."

Even though the exit to the Halberd was less than ten feet away, Sonic was fidgeting restlessly, as if he couldn't stand walking at the same pace as his comrades. Finally growing impatient, the hedgehog took off headlong out the door; the only thing they saw was the door slamming open and closing so abruptly that it looked like no one had went through it at all.

Scornfully Snake remarked, "Speed-crazed hedgehog," before gripping the door handle and politely holding it open.

The entire time Meta Knight walked past with a quiet, "Thank you," Snake had to resist the urge to slam it shut on the dictator. Even though it was the Pikmins' fault for the Halberd's early departure, _Snake_ didn't know that. Thus, he blamed Meta Knight, which works all the same.

Outside a humid breeze buffeted Meta Knight, rippling his cape somewhat. Feeling self-conscious, Meta Knight tightened his grip on the purple fabric, only vaguely listening to Sonic's long-winded and equally fast talking: "Like I was saying, I take all of the credit for this excellent display of dedication and hard work! So, what'cha think?"

Almost blankly Meta Knight said, "I think you rearranged the dirt."

Not queuing in on the Star Warrior's comment, Sonic continued, "And again, I take all of the credit for—what?" He backtracked on his thoughts and stared with surprise at Meta Knight. "I'm sorry, I think I misunderstood. Come again?"

Aggressively Snake jabbed a finger at Sonic's half of the window. "You rearranged the dirt."

Not quite believing it, Sonic cast a dumbfounded glance at the transparent glass. True to his word, the window had long streaks of pale brown grime spattered in diagonal lines. Hell, you could even see the designs from Sonic's sneakers.

Meta Knight could feel a migraine coming, and had to exhale with an extremely controlled breath to forestall it. Gesticulating with his hand, he seethed, "There's even a _dead bird_ on the window. Now tell me, Sonic: How does your definition of clean differ from mine?"

Speechless, Sonic began to protest weakly, "But—But..."

His yellow glare hardened. Turning with a pronounced leer at both the hedgehog and spy, Meta Knight growled, "Sonic, since you take _full credit_ for your 'handiwork,' you can have the honor of re-cleaning this one, plus every other window you 'cleaned.' As for you"—the knight turned his frustrations toward Snake—"you can stay here with him and make sure that he does it correctly this time."

Simultaneously the pair began to beg: "But—"

On deaf ears Meta Knight turned and swung open the door. Before reentering the ship he commented, "At least you two can agree on _something_. Oh, and one last thing: if the windows aren't cleaned before dinner, than you shall resume after the meal. Good day."

And he closed the door with a pronounced gentleness that emphasized his headache.

Left to his own devices, Meta Knight decided to do what he did best.

Overdose.

Determined to reach his medicine cabinet without anymore unwelcome intrusions, the Star Warrior stalked down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen. However, fate had other plans.

He only managed to make it halfway toward his destination before another predicament caught his eye:

Another twenty feet down the corridor from him sat Pit and Kirby. With one arm slung over Kirby's back, the angel was murmuring something that he couldn't quite catch. A display of affection? It caught Meta Knight off guard to not see his tenants arguing or fighting. Intrigued by the display, he approached softly; he was going in that direction anyway.

But as he neared, the words became clear and intelligible:

"Look, Kirby, please don't tell Meta Knight! We'll—I mean, I'll get you some ginger ale and Pepto Bismol! But if you keel now, then _I'm_ screwed, too!"

_So much for affection._

Hastening his pace, Meta Knight reached Kirby's side in a few agile bounds (which is saying something, considering he's not young). He startled Pit out of his one-sided conversation by asking in deep concern, "What's wrong?"

"Sir Meta Knight!" Pit jumped to his feet hastily and grinned. Well, it looked more like a grimace of pain, but who's keeping track? "What? Oh. Nothing's wrong! Nothing whatsoever!"

Taking a quick glance at Kirby—green in the face with a feverish expression and teary eyes—Meta Knight fixed Pit with a long look. "Are you seriously going to try and sell me that?"

Crestfallen, Pit mumbled, "No," and stepped aside to give Meta Knight better access to Kirby.

With a sort of odd concentration, Meta Knight placed one hand on Kirby's forehead, the other peeling back his eyelid for any signs of illness. "What happened?"

Before Pit could stutter a reply of, "Funny you should ask," Kirby vomited all over Meta Knight.

A long, shuddering breath escaped Meta Knight as he fought the urge to unsheathe Galaxia. Instead of causing more bloodshed than need be, he took a cautious step back and examined himself. Interlaced in the vomit were pieces of plastic and glass shards. A nerve snapped near his temple.

Although Pit's IQ was arguable, he still had the grace not too laugh himself into hysterics. In reality, he was too afraid to laugh at the situation at hand.

The two stared at each other, Pit's gaze a lot more sheepish than the knight's.

Four words sounded from the puke-covered mask: "You fed him_ trash_?"

Pit puffed out his chest in the beginnings of phrasing a thought, only to be stopped as Meta Knight held up a hand. "Don't talk. If you open your mouth, you're probably going to laugh, and I will have no self-restraint when I punch you in the face. Hard. So listen closely."

Mute with terror, Pit nodded.

"Firstly, there are ways of disposing the trash without feeding it to Kirby. In the future, come to me and I'll show you what to do."

With a hand extended, Pit began to whimper, "But you said this morning—"

"Disregard what I said earlier, whatever it was. In the future, take the trash to the furnace, give it to the Kongs, and burn it."

Still torn between laughter and panic, the angel protested, "But air pollution—"

"I don't have time for this!" he snapped, borderline murderous. "The furnace has a filter that safely disposes of toxic waste. No pollution, no problem. Next, take Kirby to the infirmary—damn it!" The exclamation caused Pit to step backward with a hand on his staff. To himself Meta Knight growled, "Those two idiots never finished cleaning it! Very well." Almost painfully he tried to wipe some of the vomit from his hands onto his cloak, but to no avail. "Take Pinky to his room. I will find a remedy shortly."

Pit's relieved exhale hitched in his throat as Meta Knight grabbed him by his white garb and yanked him to his eye level. In a velvety voice he stated, "If you screw this up, I will kill you in your sleep. Go. Now."

Almost forcefully the Star Warrior thrust Pit backward, and he barely managed to catch himself with wings extended. Not willing to disobey him, Pit rapidly scooped up Kirby and carried him in the opposite direction of the kitchen. However, as soon as Pit had made it three yards, the snickering became obvious.

That mental barrier that distinguished _kill _and _don't kill_ dissolved then and there. Hand firmly grasped on the hilt of Galaxia, he began to draw his sword. Once the golden blade was out of its sheathe, Meta Knight brought his arm in an arc. Just when the urge to throw it at Pit goaded him, Pit had rounded the corner and was gone.

Without the temptation, it was easier for him to breathe, return the sword to its sheathe, and console himself. _Go, now, before something else happens._ The calming thought of his medicine awaiting his arrival was something of a comfort. Very slowly, the Star Warrior paced down the length of the hallway before departing into the vacant kitchen.

* * *

**Dinner**

Similar to breakfast, the conference room was gradually filling with _Brawl_ characters. News of dinner was still spreading around the Halberd (which is a lot of ground to cover), so for the first ten minutes only Zelda, Marth, Wolf, the Ice Climbers, Peach, R.O.B., and Yoshi were present.

Of course, this number only includes the people sitting at the table, waiting to be fed.

The doors connecting the conference room and kitchen slid open, emitting an overworked Star Warrior laden high with dishes. (Prior to cooking dinner, he had washed the Kirby-puke off of him.) With the almost-grace he carried them with, one would have assumed that he had been a professional waiter.

While struggling to set the food on the table, Meta Knight cast an exasperated glance at the eight other present assembled people. Blankly they stared at him, too hungry to really notice that the polite thing to do would have been to offer a hand.

Needless to say, such details weren't oblivious to Meta Knight.

A slight clatter came from the dishes as he set them awkwardly on the table. Thankfully he was roping in his temper and had renewed patience. Although to what extent was uncertain. As a means of responding to the vacant looks fixated on the food, the Star Warrior inquired, "I don't suppose any of you would mind helping me with this?"

The only response was Yoshi's stomach growling. Marth merely slumped his head on the table and gave a pointed yawn. Translated, that would have equated to, _I'm tired, you old nag. Leave me alone_.

His cape billowed out behind him as he began to turn toward the kitchen door—but not before adding on without a backward glance, "Well, then I suppose you won't mind having to wait a little longer for your precious dinner."

The remark was super effective.

In that instant the other seven (minus R.O.B.) sprang to their feet with enthusiasm that was overkill. Simultaneously they chorused, "We'll help!" and began to run toward the doors.

"Hold on! Wait, wait!" Meta Knight gasped, holding up his hands to slow them down. As the mini stampede slowed, he continued: "I only need a few of you to help. Too many, and it'll be pandemonium. Yoshi, Nana, Popo"—he stepped aside to let them pass—"grab the dishes and start setting the table."

Eagerly Popo charged toward the sliding doors. Automatically they parted, and a mere second after they'd closed behind him a loud_ thud_ followed.

Panicked, Nana cried, "Hang on, Popo, I'm coming!" before blindly charging into the kitchen after him. There was a loud crash to punctuate that something was wrong.

Last of all was Yoshi, who skidded in through the doors. When they closed behind him, a third crash resonated into their section of the Halberd.

"Oh." For a moment Meta Knight stared off in absent contemplation. Then, almost carelessly: "By the way, the floor is still wet."

From the other side of the sliding doors came a muffled, unified voice: "We know."

"Just a heads up," the Star Warrior tacked on.

Sarcastically a pained voice (presumably Popo's) groaned, "_Thanks_."

Now exceeding their usefulness, the others reluctantly slunk back to their seats as Meta Knight, Yoshi, and the Ice Climbers continued to haul out food. While doing so, the room began to flood as newcomers swarmed in and took up random chairs along the table. Oddly enough, the conversations were subdued. But then again, maybe it wasn't that odd, considering how most of them looked like hell.

It was only when Meta Knight placed the last dish on the table did he notice that they were all filthy.

And smelled.

Before he could comment on their appearance (not to mention body odor), the doors to the conference room were thrown open. Supported between Ash and Ike was Captain Falcon; or rather, what was _left _of Captain Falcon. Strays vines and bits of trailing ivy clung to his golden boots. An irritated rash that resembled poison ivy spread up his left arm.

While Ike helped the F-Zero race captain hobble to a vacant seat, Ash quickly closed the door and glared at Meta Knight. "I can't believe you left us in the lab for the past _three_ hours!" Not giving their benevolent dictator a chance to reply, he pursued vehemently, "After we fainted, we woke up down there in the pitch-black! Hell, you took my Poké Balls with you, but you conveniently left the Trainer behind!"

True to his words, Charizard, Squirtle, and Ivysaur were seated along the table with their heads ducked down, trying to look inconspicuous.

Almost nonchalantly Meta Knight shrugged. "I was willing to bet that if I hadn't brought them to dinner, you would have neglected to feed them—again."

The spoon that Jigglypuff had been holding bent in half in her grasp, as she glared pointedly at Ash. Pikachu shared her incredulous look, while Lucario ignored what looked like a fight about to break out.

Trying to interrupt the tension, Mr. Game and Watch politely interrupted, "Beep?" ("What happened to Captain Falcon?")

Luigi (who had the misfortune to be seated closest to him) poked Captain Falcon warily. "He looks like he got in a fight with a weedwacker, and the weedwacker won." At the sudden contact from Luigi, Captain Falcon began to rock back and forth and mutter.

Lucas paled. "What's he saying...?"

Ike, still hovering behind Captain Falcon, prodded him on the shoulders and demanded, "Yo, buddy, speak up!"

Any side conversations ended as the room's occupants leaned in to hear what Captain Falcon was saying. Still vacant of expression and glassy-eyed, he recited, "Roses are red, violets are blue. Roses are red, violets are blue. Roses are red—"

"Creepy." Diddy shuddered.

Around a forceful sneeze Samus managed to ask suspiciously, "What's wrong with him? I thought that he was—_achoo!_—only going to water the plants!"

A tutting noise came from the head of the table. Shifting in their seats, the _Brawl_ characters swung around in time to distinguish Meta Knight's chiding: "I told him to wear the gas mask."

Mortified, Mario yelped, "What exactly do you keep in that greenhouse?"

Instead of responding directly to the Italian plumber, Meta Knight garnered their attention with a hand gesture. Calling in a calm voice to his audience, "Watch this," he stared down the opposite end of the table and said, "Captain Falcon?"

When addressed, the space pilot fell silent and stared with wide, frightened eyes at the Star Warrior. If anyone had known any better, one could have said that he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Leaning forward, Meta Knight prompted him casually, "Tell me what the flowers said."

Off to the side, Snake commented to Marth, "Any doubt about Meta Knight's insanity is definitely out the window now."

"_Shh!_" hissed Zelda and Peach in unison.

For a second Captain Falcon stared without seeing around the room. Instantly his shivering stopped, and he tightened his grip around his legs. (Currently he was huddled in the fetal position.) Licking his dry lips, he whimpered, "I heard them."

"Heard what?" Sonic demanded.

A glare from Yoshi shut him up.

"The roses," Captain Falcon whispered. His gave flickered back and forth, around the room, as if double-checking who was listening on this conversation. "And the sunflower."

Diddy whistled in an impressed manner. "What the heck has he been smoking?"

As Meta Knight waved down Diddy's comment, Captain Falcon continued in a hoarse whisper, "First, there was j-just one...one little black rose. And then there were nine. They followed me. They chased me. _They cornered me!_" The last line ended as a wail that caused those closest to him to inch their seats away. Trembling, Captain Falcon cried faintly, "The hose was running, its water cold. And then...I saw it. The sunflower, with its large flaming eye!" At this point he was trembling so badly that his teeth were chattering. With a raspy sniffle, he tucked his chin closer against his knees. "He asked me my name, but I wouldn't give it. He kept asking me if I had the Ring. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. He asked if I was the Ring Bearer. And then...and then..."

Unable to go on, he threw his hands over his red helmet and began to convulse into sobs.

Aloud DK noted, "This has plagiarism all over it."

"Like a rip-off of Tolkien," Fox suggested.

"Meta Knight?" Peach's anxious voice rose above the hushed clamor of her comrades, all of whom were still warily watching the space captain. "This will wear off, right? Whatever it is?"

"Of course." Despite the serious tone Meta Knight used, you could tell by the green flicker to his yellow eyes that his sentiments contradicted him. "He'll just have a horrible case of anthophobia. Nor will he ever want to do that chore again. Let this be a reminder to all of you to wear a gas mask when you go in there from now on."

Dubious, R.O.B. pointed at Meta Knight with the spoon he was holding and reasoned, "You have a sadistic sense of humor. Did anyone ever tell you that?"

"Yes," admitted the Star Warrior, sounding unfazed. "So, who wants to kindly escort Captain Falcon to his room? With a good night's sleep, he should be...semi-normal. Oh. And whoever takes him can also see if Kirby has stopped vomiting."

"Wait!" Ness jumped up from his seat. "Kirby's sick? What happened?"

Pit slid down into his seat and tried to make himself look as small as possible.

"Something else, too," Samus mused, scanning the perimeter of the table. She tallied thirty-three heads, not counting Kirby. "Where's Olimar?"

_Screeeeeeeech_.

From outside of the conference room came a piercing scream of terror, followed by five miniature shrieks. But over the bloodcurdling yells was a more foreboding sound: like nails scraping against a chalkboard, mixed with the roar of some carnivorous beast.

Around the table _Brawl _characters began to jump to their feet, unsheathing their swords, aiming their blasters at the door, and taking up battle-ready stances (minus Captain Falcon, who hadn't reacted at all). Before anyone could move toward the conference room door, however, it was flung open. Five wailing Pikmin pitched nose-dives onto the metallic floor, while Olimar barreled in behind them and violently slammed it shut. With his arms spread wide, he pressed his spine to the door. His knees buckled as the door began to rattle on its hinges. The air was sucked out of the room as everyone collectively held their breaths.

Only when the door stopped trembling and the scratching noise vanished did Olimar straighten. In a single, high-pitched voice, he breathed out, "I finished my chore!" and took a seat.

Dead silence followed. Most of the room's occupants were still standing with their weapons out.

"Can we eat dinner now?"

It took Meta Knight a few heart-pounding seconds to realize that the dim-witted question came from Link.

Trying to force down the migraine that he thought he had fixed, Meta Knight snapped, "NO."

Everyone still remained standing, simultaneously swinging their dumbfounded and indignant stares toward him.

"What?" shrieked Pit, holdings his arms akimbo. "Why not!"

"We're starving!" chanted Nana and Popo.

Pounding his fists on his chest, DK growled, "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _me_?" The only sign of the Star Warrior's temper was the spike in his voice, a smidgen of an octave higher than they were used to hearing. "What's wrong with all of _you_? Look at yourselves!" he exclaimed in an exasperated tone.

Taken aback, the others began to examine themselves. Almost all of them were sporting dirty clothes. Likewise, their skin was covered in dirt, soot, scorch marks, scratches, dust, food stains (from lunch), and bruises from head to toe (or tail, in the case of certain characters).

Still in a rant, Meta Knight near-snarled, "Did any of you bother to bathe or change clothes before you came to dinner? The only one who's actually clean is Wolf—"

From a corner chair Wolf sulkily protested, "Don't expect that to last!"

"—and for the love of my ship, you all stink!" Crossing his arms, the Star Warrior huffed, "Half of you smell like you went swimming in the toilet!"

"Pika!" Under the Electric Mouse Pokémon's quelling look, Lucario was forced to translated, "'Not all of us volunteered.'"

From across the food-covered table Samus cast Olimar a queer look, to which he replied by averting his gaze in embarrassment. Silently he mouthed, _I had no choice. It was life or death!_

Samus only quirked an eyebrow in response.

Most of the attention from this statement was diverted toward Toon Link and Link. Marth, who had the misfortune of sitting elbow-to-elbow with Link, gagged, "You two smell the worst! Really, what did you two do? Roll around in crap?"

Neither of the two responded.

As the silence thickened, Marth looked them up and down in their green _and_ brown-splotched tunics. Gagging at his discovery, he spluttered, "Are you two covered in it?"

A quiet reply came from under Link's pointy green cap: "Yes."

Squeals of disgust came from the table. Above the retching noises Meta Knight yelled, "THAT'S IT! Everybody, hit the showers! And for God's sakes, who smells like a dead bird?"

Lifting his wing, Falco gave himself a brief sniff before cheerfully declaring, "Not me!"

This time, the guilty mumble came from Sonic. It was at that second that the two people closest (Lucario and Peach) to the hedgehog noticed that he was holding what looked like a shoebox. "Well, remember when you told us to finish after dinner if we weren't done beforehand? Yeah, about that—when we were all told to come to dinner, I was still taking care of tweeters here."

To draw attention to his burden, he placed the brown shoebox on the table, popped off the lid, and removed the skeleton.

One look from the emaciated, fleshless bird was enough to cause Peach's eyes to roll back into her head. A loud _thud_ filled the room as she passed out onto the floor.

In attempts to restore a slight amount of peace, Samus tried to call out coolly, "Hey, can those of us who are somewhat clean eat?" As she began to lift up a lid from one of the trays, she added idly, "I'm starvi—"

Her speech dwindled as she held the lid only partway from the dish. Sitting on top of the plate was the Monster Book, chewing on a piece of fried chicken. When it realized that its meal had been interrupted, it snarled softly at Samus, to which she responded by slamming the lid down to conceal it.

"Never mind." Her tone adopted a silvery, nervous laugh. "Forget d-dinner, guys. The casserole went bad!"

Abandoning his fury briefly, Meta Knight turned in her direction with a hidden frown. "I didn't make casserole."

Samus' reply was cut off as lights all across the Halberd went out, plunging the ship into blackness.

Amidst the amplified complaints and yelps, Meta Knight's steely tone blared like a siren: "MR. GAME AND WATCH!"

"Beep?" ("Oops?")

It was impossible to see in the dark, but the_ Brawl _characters in the room still flinched at the sound of a plate clattering on the floor.

Zelda's shrill voice filled the air: "What the _hell _was that?"

All of the sudden, toward the front of the conference room Ash snapped, "Squirtle, stop chewing on my pant leg!"

Too quiet to hear, Samus gulped, "I don't think that's Squirtle, Ash..."

Then, with the ominous squeak of a door's swinging hinges, the entrance leading to the hallway became open. A revving noise, as soft as a well-oiled engine, thrummed throughout the conference room. No one moved.

Yoshi managed to choke out into the jet-black quarters, "Olimar, did you lock the door?"

A high-c noted gasp answered, equally as mortified, "_No_..."

A final rev stabbed the stillness before the vacuum charged forward, its wheels gyrating so forcefully against the metal floor that it gave off small sparks.

At Olimar's screech of, "IT WILL CLEAN YOUR SOUL!" chaos broke loose. Aimlessly people ran around the room, screaming and crashing into each other.

Somewhere within the depths of the darkness Meta Knight's pager dutifully began to chant, "_Idiot alert! Idiot alert! Idiot alert!"_

And in the center of it all, a still shell-shocked voice repeated, "Roses are red, violets are blue. Roses are red, violets are blue..."

* * *

**POSTSCRIPT **—

Well, I can honestly say that the ending for this chapter surprised even us. Right, sis?

_"Tweeters."_

Yeah, I didn't see that one coming, either. Well, keep an eye out for the next segment of Life Aboard the Halberd: _The Thriller Filler!_


End file.
